


She Had Him At Hello

by chartreuseian



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-31 21:03:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 143,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17856917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chartreuseian/pseuds/chartreuseian
Summary: It's a long, complicated story. But it's their story.





	1. Chapter 1

Nikola sat in the corner, perfectly happy to play his part as the strange foreign boy. He knew he'd only been invited to this party out of pity but for the life of him couldn't remember why he'd accepted. A few brave souls had approached him over the course of the evening, trying to start up a conversation but he always managed to offend them. Not that it was hard when they were all so painfully dim-witted but he knew he probably shouldn't take so much pleasure in cutting them down so mercilessly. It didn't take long for word to spread that the Serbian in the corner had had too much to drink, causing him to develop a harsh tongue. He knew he should be upset at the fact people would whisper it only feet away from him but frankly, being alone was fine by him.

So, instead of mingling with the people who tried to call themselves his peers, Nikola sat, drinking wine, coming up with nicknames for the men who seemed to think themselves so superior. The man with the black hair brushed back and an impressive beard growing on his already pointed chin was the badger, so keen and conniving were his eyes as they surveyed the room, drinking it all in. But the man was proud too, standing tall with his hands clasped firmly behind his back, chest thrust forward as he smiled and laughed loudly, the deep, rich sound booming around the small room, a genuine sound that made Nikola like the man. Well, hate him a little less, this proud badger.

The man with the curtains of brown hair was a hawk, or maybe a vulture with that long nose of his. No, definitely a vulture, he had a deep scar across one cheek showing his tenacity and fighting nature. He was tall too, shoulders hunched slightly as if he was aware he was the tallest in the room and he wished to blend in. This man had quick eyes too but they were different, more like he was keeping watch, always with an eye on his own back. He looked too fake for Nikola's liking as he smiled smoothly at his companion, the smile not touching his eyes. There was a kindness in his eyes, certainly, but it seemed reserved for the man he was talking to, like it was something he could only give to a close friend. He was… he was… Nikola searched for the word in English. Despite being nearly word perfect, descriptions sometimes got away from him. His brow furrowed as he thought of the word in Serbian, ljigav. It was perfect but try as he might, the translation escaped him. This man was ljigav.

His companion on the other hand was round, much smaller but round. He was a rabbit, nervous looking, yes but also gentle, like he would only run away if you chased him. He seemed… friendly, Nikola decided. But also sneaky, a tricky rabbit perhaps. Just then, the man smiled and Nikola sat back in his chair, very secure in his assessment of the man, his grin, soft but still devious proved it.

Nikola's eyes flitted to another man, the party being almost devoid of women and promptly decided this man was a cat, sweet and kind until you decided to play with another at which point he would spit and curse. He sighed, becoming bored with his game. His eyes drifted through the room as he sipped his wine, dreadful stuff, cheap and nasty, designed to bring on a headache. He continued naming the people in the room after animals while part of his mind tried to calculate how much longer he must sit here, listening to these imbeciles drone on and on about their great discoveries that Nikola knew were nothing more than a child finding a daisy for the first time. He glanced down at his pocket watch, a gift from his father, possibly the only one he ever got, before deciding to give them one more hour, after all, it was Christmas, a time for generosity.

Just as thought about revising his plan for staying, the door directly across the room from Nikola opened, sending a chilly blast through the room. Internally he cursed at whoever had entered, clearly very late to the party.

"Sorry, old chap," the intruder said to the host, the badger man, "We got caught up in the storm but Helen insisted we come, refusing to turn back."

Nikola knew the badger man respond kindly but heard not a word of what he was saying. His eyes were glued to the young woman who had also come in. She was… was… Nikola knew the word he was searching for beautiful but it wasn't enough. She had large, inquisitive eyes, the most captivating shade of blue that Nikola had to wonder if they were a perfect replica of the summer sky. She was looking around the room, eyes bright with excitement, like she had been waiting for this very moment for a long time. She had wonderfully long eyelashes, something he had never before noticed on a woman. They were a shade or two darker than her hair and framed her jewel like eyes magnificently.

Her hair was blonde, shimmering curls pulled up on her head. Nikola noticed there were a few flakes of snow still sticking to her hair, melting quickly in the warm room. Her cheeks were flushed, whether from the cold or excitement, Nikola didn't know but for the first time in his life he found himself caring. She was smiling softly, her lush, pink lips pulling up delicately at the corners, showing her sparkling white teeth.

All of a sudden her attention was claimed by the man she was with. Her father, Nikola decided as he took in the age difference. She was maybe a few years older than himself but this man was going grey and used a walking stick. Something about this made Nikola happy, knowing she wasn't with this man but simply being escorted by him. She laughed lightly at something the badger man said before he leaned in and kissed her hand, encased in white cotton Nikola knew would be soft but all this was secondary once he heard her laugh. It was light, fresh and airy, nothing tittering about like most women he knew. Her laughter was a delightful gurgle and her eyes danced merrily.

Something about the way she held herself told Nikola she was intelligent, her back was straight, head held high so she could take in the world around her. Her eyes, again those blue eyes were soaking up the party, hardly stopping for a second as they danced away from her host to the rest of the party. A soft blush crept up her cheeks and Nikola had the strongest urge to dash over to her and ask why. Quickly, he realised his question was unnecessary. She was embarrassed, every man in the damn place was staring at her, mostly fixated on her rather generous bosom, securely strapped under her pale blue dress but evident none the less.

Nikola felt the most peculiar surge of emotion, as if he should rush over and shield her from their leers, particularly from the vulture man who was openly staring at her, assessing her as if she was nothing more than a pretty piece of jewellery. Nikola was about to stand up, completely unconscious of the action but suddenly found himself pinned to the chair. She was looking at him.

Her blue eyes were piercing, staring into him, that smile still dancing on her lips. She paused for a fraction, inclining her head and Nikola realised he was the only man who received this treatment. He smiled back softly before he realised he was also the only man who was still staring at her, everyone else had gone back to their conversations, keeping one, very subtle eye on her. Nikola knew he should be ashamed but he couldn't find it in him to be afraid of this beautiful creature and her analytical eyes.

After what felt like the longest moment of his life, she looked away and Nikola found he could breathe again, something he hadn't realised had stopped. He watched her as she scanned the room a few more times, each time her gaze landed on him for just a fraction longer. Again her attention was captured by her father and, reluctantly, Nikola hoped, she dragged her eyes back to the man being presented to her.

The rabbit, he noted. He didn't feel threatened by this man, despite his obvious interest in the girl. No, he corrected himself, woman, she was all woman. Her beautiful eyes flickered over the man, smiling easily at him, dipping into a polite curtsey as he kissed her hand, holding on just a bit longer than society would deem appropriate. The chatted briefly before her father and the host led her on the next introduction. She made the rounds, smiling prettily as she met each person in the room. Her eyes brimmed with delight at some, politely guarded at others and it didn't escape Nikola that not once did she greet any of the women with any real enthusiasm. A woman who didn't prefer the company of other women, he mused, was someone he could really sink his teeth into.

With a jolt he sat up. Where the hell did that come from? He'd had the occasional lusty thought but nothing as downright lusty as  _that_. Though, he realised, it was the first openly carnal thought he'd had about her.

But was it? Was it a carnal thought? She was intelligent, maybe he wanted to delve into her mind, enjoy the company of a thoroughly untraditional woman. No, he thought with a shudder, still watching her, it wasn't just that. She was… making him lose his words, among other things… magnetic. Ha! That was it, she was magnetic, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. His… craving, was that the right word? His craving for her was deep, carnal yes but he wanted her thoughts too, he wanted to hear them, not just be in them.

His train of thought was derailed however, when she was introduced to the vulture. She smiled brightly at him, a smile he hadn't seen yet and a blush came to her cheeks when he spoke to her. He was still holding her hand and she seemed very much obliged to let him continue in such a fashion. Nikola had to bite back a curse, settling for silent fuming. He knew people were watching him and his attentions to this woman but he couldn't, as per usual, find it in himself to care.

She had stood with this man for minutes now, talking, laughing, eyes dancing as he smiled down with that cunning kindness Nikola had seen earlier. He took solace in the fact that her father seemed as upset with the coupling as he did, his face dark as he watched his daughter titter like a school girl at this strangers compliments.

Finally, Nikola found something about the woman he disliked. She was easily swayed by a pretty face and lavish compliments which seemed to reduce her to no more than a giggling, eye-lash batting woman. The second he thought it, Nikola wanted to take it back, erase the thought from his mind, dispose of all evidence that he'd ever thought ill of this intelligent and captivating creature. He felt swirling guilt pull at his gut and grabbed at his wine glass to quell it.

Taking a deep swig, he closed his eyes, wanting relief from the torture of watching her flirt with that man. Sadly, it wasn't so easy. Her face was etched into his mind, splayed on the back of his eye lids. Everything from her ruffled, blonde curls, lilting eyebrows, pert nose, expressive lips and finally, finally those eyes that made his heart thrum. With a smile he realised he barely understood the words he'd just used, having heard them and learnt them but never before used them. He looked back over at where she had been just a minute ago and his heart clenched when he realised she was no longer there.

He sat up a little straighter, flicking his eyes over the party as her searched for her eyes. He turned around just in time to see her walking straight towards him, escorted by her father and their host but still… towards him.

Acting more out of instinct than anything else, he stood up, plastering a smile on his face. He knew his palms were sweaty and his breathing strained but he forced himself to stand there silently.

"Mr. Gregory Magnus, may I present to you, Mr. Nikola Tesla," the badger man said, his voice confident but there was an edge, as if he was worried something might go wrong.

"Mr. Magnus," Nikola said stoically, nodding his head in the other man's direction.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tesla. May I introduce my daughter, Miss Helen Magnus," the elderly man said, his clear eyes, a less startling shade of blue than his daughter, guarded as if he perceived Nikola as a threat.

"Miss Magnus," Nikola choked out, accepting her hand. He raised it carefully to his lips, never breaking eye contact with her as he brushed his lips over her knuckles gently. As he did so, he was pleased to watch her breathing hitch, her smile faltering for a second, exposing something else entirely.

"It's lovely to meet you, Mr. Tesla," she said quietly, a cautious smile appearing on her lips. Taking it as encouragement, Nikola smiled softly at her, dropping her hand gently, pleased when she didn't quite let go as quickly as he did.

They chattered for some minutes, her father, Helen's father, questioning him about some of the works he had been doing but Nikola knew he'd never remember the things they spoke about that evening, only that her eyes lit up like his experiments as he spoke, trying his hardest to discard his thick and brutish accent. She asked inquisitive questions, her head cocked elegantly to the side as she did so. Her eyes shone as he answered before she countered with an even greater question.

Nikola was elated, not only had he (mostly) overcome his trademark shyness, but she was interested in him, in his mind and the things he could do. As far as he was concerned, this was all he could ever ask for and so much more from this beautiful creature. And he was right, she was intelligent, painfully so and he felt himself getting angry as she explained that she was only at the university auditing courses.

"That's not right," he burst out, "You are clearly more intelligent than half the fools in this room. It makes no sense that they would reject you for being a woman," he finished angrily, a shade louder than he'd realised. Several people were staring at them and her father was looking at him, seemingly confused by his outburst. But none of that mattered when he looked into her eyes. She was smiling at him brilliantly, her eyes bright and her hands clasped in front of her.

"It's refreshing to hear a man think that way," she said, her voice soft, clearly his defence of her right to education had touched her and he melted, a peculiar sensation he'd never experience before. He felt an overwhelming urge to lean forwards and capture her smiling lips in a kiss.

There was a beat of silence in which he seriously considered doing so but was interrupted by their host brightly declaring he'd never heard such a two sided conversation in his life. Her father then smiled politely at him before saying something about how pleased he was to make his acquaintance. Nikola nodded at him, never taking his eyes off Helen.

Her father grabbed her arm and began steering her away but not before she could smile one last time at him.

"Mr. Tesla," she said sweetly, nodding her head as she was whisked away.

Nikola sank down into his chair, feeling dizzy. His mind flew through every glance she had given him, every time she had laughed, every time she smiled. He had to take several deep, fortifying gulps of wine, hardly tasting the stuff as he emptied the glass. His mind whizzed, working in Serbian, unable to make the switch.

He sat for several minutes, keeping an eye on her progress around the room, watching as she lit up or shut down, depending on who she was talking to. Eventually his breathing returned to normal and his eyes started to watch her out of habit more than conscious decision. She moved with grace, seeming to float as she walked. Her hand, which he remembered being small in his gestured as she spoke, emphasising her point. Once, while she was deep in conversation with the man Nikola had dubbed the cat, she turned her head and looked over at him quizzically and her companion did the same. Realizing that he was watching, she quickly turned away but Nikola was left with the queerest sensation that she was talking about him.

He let the moment pass, part of his mind processing that fact while the rest was absorbed with her. Her name. Helen. It fitted perfectly he decided. It was strong, like Helen of Troy. She was beautiful, smart and Nikola knew he'd steal her if he could. Hmm, he mused, maybe less Helen of Troy, more… well… more intelligent. She was brilliant, a star in the dark sky that was this lifeless party. Her name was also soft, beckoning him to whisper it in her ear. It rolled off his tongue beautifully, warming his heart.

Nikola spent the next few minutes, contemplating all the ways he could say her name, hardly paying attention and for the first time since she had arrived, he did not watch her. It was for this reason he was shocked, well and truly shaken when he realised she was standing in front of him, that same quizzical look in her eyes, as if she was a puzzle to unlock.

"Helen," he said, shooting upwards. She seemed somewhat taken aback by his use of her first name but smiled.

"I… I mean, Miss Magnus," he corrected himself, bowing slightly in such an awkward fashion that she let out a little laugh.

"Please, call me Helen," she said, clearly not one for convention.

Nikola smiled, relieved and gestured for her to take a seat next to him which she accepted with a smile. He stood there for a moment once she had sat, staring at her as she smiled up at him, that warm, welcoming and intelligent smile.

Clearing his throat, he sat down. There was an uncomfortable silence between them before they both started to talk at once.

Helen looked away (he felt a surge of pleasure that he should call her that) with a nervous laugh. It wasn't the same kind of titter she had given the vulture but it had the same excitement behind it.

"Go ahead," he said encouragingly, hoping his nerves were contained well enough.

She bit her lip, an endearingly feminine gesture that Nikola had not expected. "I was wondering," she said, her earlier confidence slipping, "why you were watching me so intently?" she blurted, clearly uncomfortable at being so blunt.

Nikola let out a startled cough and looked away at the dwindling crowd in the room. He could see Helen's father and their host holed up in a corner, pouring over an old book. Swallowing he turned back to her, just in time to see her stand up.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that," she said, flustered as he stood up too.

"No, no, it is O.K," he said quickly, placing a hand on her arm before he realised he'd done it. They both looked down at his hand and within a second he'd pulled it away, trying to ignore the heat pulsing through his hand.

Without another word she sat down and he followed suit. They were silent for a moment before Nikola turned to look at her.

"You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen, that is why I was watching you," he said carefully, expecting his honesty to disgust her. She simply blushed and turned away.

"Thank you," she said quietly, her voice testing the waters.

After another beat of silence, they fell into an easy conversation, discussing everything, from lectures to her father. She told him she had applied to be admitted to the university three times but had been rejected so her father was teaching her while she audited courses and he suddenly got angry, his fists clenching and she laughed, startling him. He told her about his experiments, about how very close he was to his great breakthrough. She asked to see his work, again startling him and there was such wonder in his voice as he agreed that she laughed again.

It was then Nikola decided to do everything he could to hear that laugh, he made it his mission to make her laugh, every single day. He jumped internally, realising that he'd just vowed to spend every day with her without having known her for more than 2 hours. Then she made some silly joke and he lost his train of thought, laughing along with her. They spent the next hour talking, on and on and on about everything, Helen proving herself to be a remarkable sparring partner.

"Mr. Tesla, you are incorrigible," she said lightly, her eyes dancing.

"Nikola, my name is Nikola, please," he said, turning serious for a moment. She looked at him with that same inquisitive gaze he'd first found so captivating before smiling at him.

"Nikola."

They smiled at each other for a moment and Nikola opened his mouth, about to ask the impossible but stopped promptly when he heard someone clear their throat. He looked up into the formidable eyes of Gregory Magnus and decided that this was his chance, to stand up as a man and toss his hat in the ring so to speak. Unfortunately, Gregory was too quick.

"I'm sorry my dear," he said addressing Helen, "but we have to leave now, before the storm really picks up."

Helen's face fell as she looked between Nikola and her father but she stood. Instinctively, Nikola stood too.

"I had a wonderful time, Nikola," she said and he relished the intimacy of hearing her call him by his first name.

"As did I, He- Miss Magnus," he corrected himself at the look in her father's eye. Helen rolled her eyes at her father's expression.

"Helen," she insisted.

"Helen," he said, taking her hand in his, gently kissing it, his lips for more firm against her fingers than they had been earlier. He could have swore he heard her gasp. "Until next time," he said with a flourish.

Her father grunted something before firmly placing his hand on Helen's and leading her away. Nikola remained standing and watched them go. The moment they left the room, Nikola slowly began walking over to the door, saying a curt farewell to his few acquaintances, stopping to make an effort to be civil with the man who had invited him, knowing he must be if he was to be invited to any parties at which his fair Helen might appear.

After a few minutes of polite conversation during which he threw in as many compliments as possible, Nikola left, grabbing his coat and hat as he stepped out into the brisk night air. Quickly he started walking towards his dormitory but all of a sudden he felt and urge to dance, yet another thing he'd never experienced until tonight.

He knew, he just knew he'd never forget her, never let himself lose her. He couldn't remember anything about the evening except her. His head was spinning, elated that he'd accepted the invite to the party, it might be a tad premature but he hypothesised that tonight was the best night of his life. He had never believed in fate but Nikola felt his resolve shake, he knew that this couldn't be a one of thing, he needed to see her again and he was confident he would. As his steps took on a lighter quality, he heard the bells chime. Midnight, Christmas day.

"Merry Christmas, Helen," he whispered, looking up into the sky at the stars that were unable to twinkle with the ferocity of her eyes.

With a whoop of delight and a quick spin in the snow, Nikola ran back to his dormitory, and that night he fell asleep with a smile still on his face.


	2. Party Pleasures: Helen

Helen sat impatiently in the carriage, having run out in front of her father. They were already late, Gregory having been caught up at work, turning up a full two hours after he'd promised. She briefly pondered if it was odd she referred to her own father as Gregory but dismissed the thought, she'd always done so, since she was a little girl. Not that she could ever say it to his face.

Anxiously, she looked out the window again. The snow was starting to get heavier and the small carriage window was beginning to fog up with her breath. She let out a frustrated sigh before absently tweaking one of the curls sitting on her shoulder. Brigette, her maid had wanted to try something different, it wasn't every night that the young miss went to a party after all but Helen had been insistent she do no more than pull it back off her face. She wore her hair in very few ways, mainly because most of the ridiculous styles took too much time to create though Helen had relented when it came to the gown. She glanced down at the decedent aqua silk peeking out from beneath her travelling coat fondly before straightening out her skirts and turning back to the window.

Her father was still nowhere to be found. Helen clicked her tongue apprehensively before fiddling with her gloves. She had been waiting for this party for months, ever since her father had mentioned he was going. She had spent hours begging him to let her go. He was still apprehensive, certain she was unable to take care of herself but Helen had reminded him time and time again that most women of her age were married by now, holding their own Christmas parties in their own houses. Unfortunately, he only took this as yet another reason that it was inappropriate she attend, something about being no ordinary woman.

Helen sighed again, still staring out the window avidly. She never got to go to parties. Granted, most of the invites she received she declined but that was because the thought of spending an entire evening cooped up in the corner with all the over-stuffed, over perfumed and under stimulated women who were more interested in the cut of their dresses than Louis Pasteur's advances, would be enough to reduce her to a fainting spell. She knew she shouldn't really hold it against them, very few women had an interest in germ theory but the sheer thought of an evening like that made her blood boil.

That's why she was so excited. Tonight was going to be something different entirely. Tonight was a university party being held by Dr. Watson, attended by those with an interest in not only science but an avid curiosity that rivalled her own. Of course she was somewhat certain most of the men would not be interested in her opinion but still, the chance to listen to intelligent men discuss intelligent matters thrilled her (at university she all the men grew silent as she approached, making discussion difficult). Her father had procured a guest list for her a week ago and she had spent every waking moment studying it, pleased to say she recognized most of the names from university.

Finally she saw some movement at the door to their town house. Slowly, so slowly it was almost painful to watch, her father made his way down the stairs. Helen let out another sigh of impatience as she fidgeted in her seat. After what seemed like an eternity he climbed into the coach and sat opposite her. "No need to fidget," he told her, reaching out place a hand on her wriggling fingers. Helen smiled patiently at him and took a deep breath.

"Sorry father," she said, her frustration at him boiling to the surface again as they lurched into motion, "But I fear we shall be monstrously late." Her father said nothing, he simply smiled at her and looked down at the stack of papers he had bought with him. How he could read in the dim light, Helen would never understand but she put all thoughts out of her mind, instead letting anticipation flow through her body.

Never before had she taken this particular journey though she was almost certain it was taking almost twice as long as it ought to. With a soft sigh she looked out the window at the falling snow, dreading the moment when she'd have to walk through it. It was beautiful yes, but Helen could not abide by the chill it left in her bones when it soaked through her travelling coat. The lights of Oxford were barely enough to light the streets but the gas lamps did make the streets look far more romantic to her eye. At that thought, Helen had to stifle a laugh. She was no green thing, being almost 30 years old and it had been years since she'd had a thought as naïve as that.

Despite her years, Helen had never engaged in anything terribly compromising, her mind, she knew, was her greatest asset yet no man worth his salt was interested in it. They were all perplexed by her desire to study and inability to perform menial tasks such as embroidery. It wasn't that she didn't know how, her father had, after all employed a governess for her until she turned 21, it was simply that she did not have the patience for something that did not provide any real benefit to her life. Although, she mused, it certainly did help when performing dissections.

She chuckled lightly at the thought and looked back at her father. He was still trying to read his own notes in the dim light of the carriage. With a sigh she reached out and took the papers from him. "It's Christmas eve," she said as he looked up. "You can afford to take one night off. We are going to a party after all."

"I suppose you are right," he said with a smile. "What would I do without you, my sweet Helen?"

"You would probably never leave your laboratory," she said, tucking the papers into the seat next to her. Gregory laughed at her before looking out the window.

"I really don't understand your insistence on coming along tonight," he said, eyes flashing back to her with curiosity. Helen suppressed a shudder, she truly did not appreciated being studied the way he studied his work but it came as second nature and she couldn't very well chastise her own father. "You've already said you know most of those who will be in attendance. Why do you think that they will treat you any different to the way they do at university?"

Helen sighed softly before smiling at her father. "I do not know all the men at the party and a great many of them are highly intelligent. Even if I only get to observe their conversations, I will learn something from them. And they will listen to you, father. You shall be my mouth piece," she explained patiently. Gregory chuckled at her words as he moved back into his seat.

"My little female scientist," he teased, forcing a blush out of her. "You are truly abnormal," he continued and she smiled. She knew he was not being callous; she truly was an abnormality in their society. Helen turned back to the window and they fell into a comfortable silence. She watched as the snow continued to fall, forcing their carriage to slow down considerably. She felt her impatient growing again and had to force her fingers together to stop the little tune she had begun to drum onto the door.

Sooner than she expected the carriage came to an abrupt halt, jostling her. Straightening herself out, Helen sat up, checking to make sure the thick combs in her hair were quiet secure. Helen peered out the window, trying to place their surroundings. Suddenly, the door swung open and her heart jumped, certain that they were about to tell her the horse had gone lame or that a wheel had broken or some other tragedy had befallen them and they were to be delayed further.

"Are you ready?" Gregory asked, noting her wide and startled eyes. All of a sudden realization flooded her face and she smiled.

"Of course," she replied, her heart fluttering for entirely different reasons as he helped her from the carriage. As predicted, the snow was cold on her skin but for once Helen couldn't care less. She was mesmerised by the small building in front of her. Its roof was steeped in snow, windows cheerfully lit from within and on the door was a beautiful wreath. It seemed like something from a fairytale she decided, hearing the voices and music coming from it. Her own personal fairytale.

Her father ushered her to the door and Helen had to take steadying breath. Really, she chided internally, she was a competent, capable woman who should have been invited to this party of her own merit, not Gregory's. Unfortunately all logical thought disappeared as the door swung open and her heart swelled at just being able to attend. It was warm, much warmer than the snow that had settled in her hair. Someone helped her with her travelling coat and she smile graciously at them, not really paying attention as her eyes tried to memorize every detail laid out before her.

The room was generously lit, fireplaces roaring. Several small sets of tables and chairs were positioned around the perimeter of the room, some of which were occupied by people who were familiar to her. She could feel a smile growing on her lips. "Sorry, old chap," her father said to the man who had greeted them. "We got caught up in the storm but Helen insisted we come, refusing to turn back," Helen bit her tongue, refusing to point out that they wouldn't have been late if he'd actually paid attention to the time.

"It's lovely to meet you, Miss Magnus, I've heard much about your scientific skills from your father," the man said. Dr. Watson, she recalled. He was an attractive man, not far from her age with intelligent eyes that seemed to be assessing everything and everybody all at once as he lifted her hand to his lips.

"Dr. Watson, my father has taught me all that he knows, I dare say he may be prejudiced when it comes to my knowledge," she said warmly with a laugh at his compliment, unable to keep her eyes on his kindly face, caught up by the party around them. The two men got to speaking but Helen barely noticed what they were saying. Suddenly self conscious she raised a hand to her hair, brushing off what she hoped would be the last of the soggy snow. She felt the blush rise in her cheeks but was powerless to stop it. Everyone in the place was looking at her. No, more than looking… they were  _staring_  at her. She quickly realised she was one of maybe 6 women in attendance and she suddenly cursed her vanity for allowing herself to wear her most fashionable of gowns.

Her gaze swept across each of the men staring at her and, as per usual, their gazes dropped, returning to their companions, daring to sneak a glance at her every now and then but keeping their leers to a minimum. Well, all for one, she realised with a shock. He was sitting directly across from her. He was thin, wiry and lean with a rather large moustache that she immediately dubbed 'the grub' and he smiled softly at her. She felt herself blush at the frankness of her thoughts and his actions but continued to survey the room. By the time her gaze reached the curious man again, he still hadn't looked away so she took the chance to survey him further. His hair was dark, slicked back against his head and his clothes were understated, something Helen found herself glad of. Again she forced her eyes away but they unintentionally return. He was still staring!

She felt a shiver run through her spine but it was not a shiver of fear. No, it was something else, something entirely foreign to her. His gaze was predatory, nor openly puzzled by her presence. He looked at her curiously yes and with admiration she was sure but there was something else, something gentler, more kind. As her eyes flicked away again she noticed not only the glass of wine in his hand but the table he sat next to was directly under a small bushel of mistletoe. All of a sudden, Helen felt giddy. Her insides boiled in the most pleasant of ways and she swallowed involuntarily. The science driven part of her mind observed this, storing away the information for further use and study.

"May I?" Dr. Watson cut it, gesturing for her to follow him.

"Of course, Dr. Watson," she replied, taking her father's arm.

"Please," he insisted, "call me James." Helen smiled at his gesture of familiarity but had trouble focusing. She could still feel the strange man's eyes watching her, those blue-grey depths she had seen from across the room studying her in a way she found she could quite get used to. "Mr. Magnus, may I present to you Mr. Nigel Griffin," James said with a flourish. Introductions were made and Helen found herself warming to the shorter man. He had a flushed face, most likely from the wine in his hand but a jolly demeanour and seemed to respect her, though he had clear admiration for her body.

They spoke briefly about unimportant things. Helen had to fight the urge to laugh at Mr. Griffin on many an occasion. His jokes were edging on inappropriate but she loved it, she felt free, like she was his equal and he was unafraid of being frank. Their host, Dr. Watson (secretly she called him James) also seemed at ease with the other man's jokes, a repour developing quickly between the three of them.

All too soon, Helen found herself being ushered along and introduced to one of the few women in the room. It took all her effort to smile politely at the woman who enquired after her dress maker. She turned her head slightly and caught a glimpse of that strange man staring at her still only now he seemed a little confused, his eyes, while still focused on her were clouded. She felt her mind drift away from the conversation at had as she started to contemplate what could possibly be so confusing for him.

As she moved to be introduced to another rather boorish guest, she struggled to control the impulse to turn and look at the man she was certain was still looking at her. Thankfully when they moved to another introduction, she could see him clearly over the shoulder of the man she was talking to. Helen found herself glad of her father's presence for the first time that evening. His habit of monopolizing a conversation meant she was free to think about the man under the mistletoe.

He was attractive, she decided. She wasn't above such things but it was a very rare occasion when she was able to notice it with more than passing interest. He wasn't dashing in the way Dr. Watson was, more understated. He was well dressed yes but with none of the frills and pomp so many man wore. He sat to attention, taking the occasional sip of wine but he did not seem too enthralled with the stuff. She wanted to get a closer look at his eyes but she couldn't very well stare at him, having to settle for the occasional glance out the side of her eye.

The next few minutes felt like an eternity and Helen was struggling to remember why she wanted to come to this party in the first place. Most of the men stuttered at her unintelligibly and all the women were hopelessly boring, all having been dragged along by their stuttering husbands. She suppressed a sigh at who ever she was smiling at this time, disappointed that she couldn't see the strange man from her current position. She was just wondering if taking a step to the left so she could see that man would seem natural when James bought to her attention a new man.

He was tall, frighteningly so and that was saying something. After all, Helen was no slight thing herself. He had dark brown hair, pulled back casually and the palest skin she had ever seen. He was smiling at her in a way that made her shiver and eyes grow wide. She hardly heard what James or her father was saying, her entire being focused on the man in front of her. Despite her haze, she managed to make out his name.

Montague John Druitt.

Another one of those strange shivers flew up her spine. He was looking at her and not just passing over her with appreciative eyes. He was looking into her, seeing everything about her. His eyes were the most piercing shade of blue, colder than her own but startling in their intensity.

And then he smiled. Smiled as he looked into her and she felt herself… she couldn't describe it. Her entire body fell apart and she was suddenly struggling to maintain her composure.

"I am most pleased to meet you, Miss Magnus," he said, his voice cool and smooth, gliding over her. She bobbed a curtsey as he kissed her hand. He gently squeezed her fingers and she lost all reasonable thought. Something took over her, a being that she had never seen before and one she was not in control of.

Her eyelashes were fluttering at him, lips curling in a smile she'd never recognize. Her body felt different, softer and warmer than she'd ever given it credit for. Her shoulders eased back of their own accord and her head took on that coquettish angle she'd seen so many women employ but that she had never had mastered.

"It seems you are not only a creature of exquisite beauty, Miss Magnus, but also one of formidable intelligence," he complimented her.

Despite all that intelligence she could do nothing more than titter at his comments. Of course, she realised, the conversation must have continued while she was falling apart on the inside. Her father must have made some comment about her participation at university. Or perhaps with his work. She decided it didn't matter. Druitt was looking at her still, out of the corner of his eye, every now and then daring a glance at her. She could sense her father bristling at the man's interest in her but she didn't care, simply gratified that such a man couldn't keep his eyes of her for more than a minute.

They chatted briefly and Helen was vaguely aware of answering his questions and posing a few of her own but the actual words she used escaped her memory. She was too busy etching every single line of his face into her memory. She knew many would find the scar running down his face grotesque but it made her want to cradle his face and kiss away any hurt left over from whatever attack had caused it.

Bloody hell, she started. She was fantasizing about kissing a complete stranger. She wasn't exactly inexperienced in such matters but still! She took a steadying breath and tried to move her mind away from his lips, still curled into that cunning and entrancing smile.

He was stooped, she realised. He seemed to be a little too conscious of the fact that he was so much taller than most. Although, Helen silently mused, tittering again as he made a joke about the Prime Minister, his stoop did mean that if she stretched up on her toes, maybe pulled him down just a little, her lips could meet his.

She cursed herself again for having such inappropriate thoughts and a blush crept into her cheeks again. Thankfully she was saved from further embarrassment when her father claimed her arm again and James led them to another guest. Although her heart wanted very much to stay where she was, her brain finally kicked in and offered her some very sound advice.

Get out.

Now.

Before you become completely insane.

Years of experience told her to trust her mind and, as much as her heart objected, she listened to her head, walking away with what she knew was a little shimmy in her hips.

She was introduced to another inane man who did nothing but ogle her, his face ruddy as he leered. This odious man did however give her the chance to recollect her thoughts. Being further away from Druitt helped to clear her mind of the fog that had descended. She was just starting to get annoyed at the man in front of her and his ridiculous claims that the cleanliness of a surgery had little to do with the outcome when she realised that, for the first time this evening, the strange man in the corner was not watching her. And, more surprisingly, she missed his gaze.

Before she had a chance to contemplate this, she was again whisked away to meet another guest. Her heart began to quicken as she realised where they were headed. To the strange man in the corner. His eyes flickered back to hers and she could feel the anticipation building inside her. He stood up quickly, his movements jerky.

"Mr. Gregory Magnus, may I present to you, Mr. Nikola Tesla," James said smoothly, although Helen detected something in his voice, fear maybe but she couldn't focus on that. Now she knew his name, Nikola. She tried out the name in her head a few times while her father nodded his introduction and she decided it suited him

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tesla. May I introduce my daughter, Miss Helen Magnus," her father said, his voice bristling with dislike but Helen didn't care. She was too caught up in the intensity of his gaze. It was ferocious, she thought the gaze alone could burn her but it wasn't enough to make her look away.

"Miss Magnus," he said throatily, his thick accent adding to the heat his voice generate in her.

As if out of nowhere, his hand held hers. He did not squeeze or caress her hand, simply brushing his lips across her knuckles, his gaze never leaving hers. The touch sent shocks through her hand and she tightened her grip ever so slightly. A breath got caught in her throat as all kinds of images floated through her mind, images she dreamed up from reading somewhat scandalous novels. He seemed to notice this as he tried to release her hand but she noticed the smirk at her behaviour was only in his eye.

Suddenly she was nervous, knowing she was about to speak to him for the first time. "It's lovely to meet you, Mr. Tesla," she said, her voice softer than she had intended. Quickly her father jumped into the conversation, clearly he had heard of this Mr. Tesla before. Tesla answered his questions politely, his accent not as thick as she had first imagined. She couldn't pick it exactly but she guessed he was eastern European though he certainly didn't fit the description of such usually brutish men. Instead he was gentle looking, quick but he had such beautiful fingers that Helen decided he couldn't be violent, at least not until provoked. He was tall too. Helen could almost look directly into his eyes and she was wearing her low heeled slippers. The perfect height, she decided. He didn't swamp her the way Druitt did, instead making her feel like his equal.

She noticed that no matter who he was talking to, he always looked at her. Suddenly she got caught up in his words, the way he formed them and then finally she noticed what he was saying. He was intelligent and unashamed of it. She had to bite back a smile at that. A question sprung to her tongue as she listened to him and without hesitation she asked it. She worried for a moment that he'd be offended but instead his eyes grew wide with excitement as he answered her. Unthinkingly she asked another, her mind now engrossed in the secrets of his.

She had no idea how long their little conversation had gone on but when she made mention of her position as a mere auditor he seemed to get enraged, a fire burning in his eyes. "That's not right," he exclaimed, "You are clearly more intelligent than half the fools in this room. It makes no sense that they would reject you for being a woman." He was louder than appropriate but she didn't care. All of a sudden she didn't give a fig about the rest of the room, of the people he had yet to meet. All she cared about was the fact that he stood up for her.

It wasn't that anyone she had met tonight had disagreed with her right to study but none of them had become upset on her behalf. It was a queer feeling but one that made her smile with sheer joy. "It's refreshing to hear a man think that way," she said softly, her voice loaded with awe and respect. For one long moment they were silent, just staring at each other but then James, ever the perfect host jumped in, breaking the tension.

Her father moved to take her to the next introduction and she decided maybe listening to her heart, which was protesting at the move, was maybe a very good idea.

"Mr. Tesla," she said softly with a smile before being taken to the next man, one who now seemed boring.

Helen was having trouble paying attention now, her body was humming, an unfamiliar current running through her. She met countless more people but she knew in the morning she'd never remember their names. She was going over everything that had happened. Eventually, her father left her alone, satisfied with his chaperone duties as he retired with James to a corner. She found herself talking to some annoying man who seemed flustered by her presence. He was round and had unattractive red hair sticking out from his head. Then she had an idea.

"Mr. Killak," she asked sweetly, employing the tone she saved for her father when he was at his most difficult, "I don't suppose you could tell me anything about Mr. Tesla?" she asked, stealing a glance over at the man in question. Her companion did the same and suddenly she felt guilty, he was still staring at her and now she seemed like a gossiping fool.

"Tesla?" the man asked with a snort as he turned back to her, "He's a pompous fool who hasn't even a mote of respect for any person other than himself," the man said snidely. Jealousy, Helen decided immediately, unable to think it could be anything else. Although she did catch that smirk in his eye as she struggled to drop his hand. Perhaps he was a trifle conceded she accepted, but it only served to endear him to her.

When he spoke of his work, he had had this kind of childish glee and unabashed pride. The way he spoke was as if he wanted her approval, or maybe she was just imagining it. She mumbled a polite goodbye to the man she was with as she decided to go find out.

Her feet were moving her across the room, making a beeline for Tesla. She didn't care about how forward her actions were, nor how wildly inappropriate it would be to approach a man she didn't know while he was sitting under mistletoe. He wasn't watching her so she sped up, stopping in front of him. She had the pleasure of watching his eyes widen as he took her in before he jumped to his feet.

"Helen," he started, sounding nervous. She was shocked, using her first name was highly inappropriate but she couldn't find a reason to be offended, she liked it.

"I… I mean, Miss Magnus," he stuttered with a small bow and she let out a laugh.

"Please, call me Helen," she said with a smile, truly wanting to hear his thick voice say her name again. Relief flitted across his face and he gestured for her to take a seat. She knew she should have debated the idea but quickly her curiosity won out and she sat. He remained standing and Helen turned to face him, smiling at him coaxingly. He sat and smiled back before an awkward silence fell over them. They both opened their mouths at once and Helen let out a nervous laugh as she looked away from him.

"Go ahead," he said softly, his eyes warm. She felt herself bite her lip and cursed at the outwardly anxious gesture.

"I was wondering," she asked, her voice becoming timid, "why you were watching me so intently?" she threw out as a blush spread in her cheeks. He coughed at the question and his eyes bulged before he looked away from her. She could tell he was watching her father and, finally finding her head, she stood up. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that," she said, getting nervous as he stood too.

"No, no, it is O.K," he rushed as his hand came to rest on her arm. She almost gasped at the contact but instead simply looked down at the source of the warmth that was now sprinting through her veins. Just as the warmth was starting to turn into fire, he pulled away and she had to stifle the small sound of disappointment in her throat.

Impulsively she sat back down, relieved when he did so too. There was a moment of gentle silence before he turned to look at her with those fiery and piercing eyes. "You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen, that is why I was watching you," he said, his words guarded.

That was not the answer she had expected. "Thank you," she said tentatively, trying a small smile.

He smiled back and they lapsed into an easy conversation. He asked her about the university and their rejection of her. He seemed riled when she admitted she had applied on three separate occasions but to no avail, hands clenching but his frustration made her laugh lightly, something which seemed to unnerve him at first.

Later he spoke with great animation of his experiments and his work, his hands moving as he described the little pieces that made up his complicated design and she was completely engrossed. It was as if they had spoken like this for years, not minutes and Helen found herself tingling every time he used her Christian name. On a whim she asked if she could someday see his work, her imagination whirring at his descriptions. He seemed so happy when she'd asked that she laughed again at the child like glee in his eyes, almost missing his affirmative answer. She noticed how he smiled when she laughed which made her smile. He really was like an adorable child at times.

His face grew serious for a moment so she made a joke, nothing terribly funny but poking fun at him gently and he laughed along with her, a sound that made her squirm with delight. Their conversation continued, seeming to flow seamlessly from one topic to the next. Eventually she made some comment about a mutual acquaintance to which he replied with a sharp tongue, eliciting another laugh from her.

"Mr. Tesla, you are incorrigible," she said lightly, resisting the urge to gently slap his arm for his words.

"Nikola, my name is Nikola, please," he insisted, his eyes taking on a serious shade. She studied him for a moment before throwing caution, yet again, to the wind. A place, she decided, it had spent a lot of time in tonight.

"Nikola," she corrected herself.

They smiled at each other for a moment and Nikola opened his mouth, Helen leaning forward to hear what he had to say but he was interrupted by a cough she knew all too well. Gregory. He was glaring down at the merry pair and Helen had to stifle a sigh.

"I'm sorry my dear," he said to her, "but we have to leave now, before the storm really picks up."

She tried not to show her disappointment as she looked between the two men in front of her. She knew she had no choice and so stood up. Nikola jumped from his chair at the same time, his face guarded. She wondered not for the first time if he was even aware of the little bushel above their heads. Her father certainly was, that's for sure.

"I had a wonderful time, Nikola," she said, not having to remind herself to use his first name.

"As did I, He- Miss Magnus," he started but then corrected, eyeing her father nervously. She almost laughed, her father was nothing if not a teddybear.

"Helen," she insisted.

"Helen," he corrected with a smile as he took her hand again. His lips were firmer against her fingers this time which only served to amp up the current flooding her body and she bit her tongue as a gasp slid out her throat. "Until next time," he said with a flourish and a small bow, ignoring the look her father gave him.

She heard her father grumble something at the young man before turning her away from him and whisking her past their host before heading back into the cold snow. Thankfully whatever was running through her body kept her from feeling the effects of the snow and she clambered into the carriage with a dazed smile. Her father said nothing to her and she was glad, her mind too confused to speak.

The trip home was a short one, Helen's mind back at the party. It would no doubt stick in her mind but not for the reasons she had anticipated. Of everyone she met at the party, only four stood out. James, their exceptional host who looked at her with a brotherly admiration. Griffin, the man who objectified her but respected her. Druitt, who turned her into a feinting heroine with just one look. And then there was Nikola, intelligent and captivating with an innocence that made her smile every time she thought about it. All four were smart, dazzlingly so and all seemed to listen to her, and, dare she even think it, they almost wanted to hear her opinion.

Sitting back against the plush seat Helen let out a sigh. It wasn't what she had been looking for but tonight felt like a turning point, something about it signalled something new and exciting. She smiled and looked out the window, ready to let herself doze on their journey home but the carriage pulled to an abrupt stop. With a start, she realised they were home.

She made it to her room without too much of a lecture from her father, well aware his displeasure would appear again tomorrow but for once not caring. She slid into bed with a small yawn and heard the bells tolling in the distance. Christmas. She though one last time about each of the men she had met before rolling over, eyes fluttering shut as a small smile rested on her face as one last thought swam in her mind.

"Merry Christmas, Nikola."

She never even knew she said it.


	3. Biological Chemistry

The ground was still wet with the last of the snow and his boots were already covered in the slush. Ignoring the bitter cold water seeping into his shoes, Nikola sped up in an attempt to keep warm. Naturally, he was late. He'd been up all night, not thinking about an invention, for once. For the first time in his life, Nikola had found himself sleepless over a person, a woman. She'd plagued his dreams every night since they'd met.

All 15 of them, he'd counted.

Joining the crowd gathering outside the hall, Nikola felt himself starting to shiver. Why these blasted men couldn't very well hurry up he'd never understand. The sun was shining yes, but the wind was whipping around their faces and Nikola, who had grown up in Serbia of all places, was freezing. With increasing impatience, he elbowed his way through the crowd, desperately seeking the warmth of the classroom.

He stopped suddenly, still a few metres from the doors. He blinked a few times, trying to make sure his mind wasn't actually playing tricks on him. He could see a mass of blonde curls just ahead of him.

"Helen," he called out, his voice almost lost in the general hub-bub of the crowd but by some miraculous twist of fate, she heard him. She spun around, eyes searching for whoever felt comfortable enough to use her given name. Finally, her eyes locked on Nikola and she smiled. The pit of unease he felt disappeared immediately and he hurried to her side, elbowing away the few men who stood between them.

"Mr. Tesla," she said, beaming at him. Her hair was glistening in the soft morning light, eyes dancing. Her cheeks were slightly flushed and she was wearing a thick woollen coat drawn up around her neck to ward off the cold air, blocking all but the hem of her dark red dress.

"Nikola," he instructed with what he was certain was a rather goofy grin but she smiled none the less, her eyes twinkling at his presumed familiarity.

"Come on," he said, holding an arm around her, ushering her into the warm building. They both bowed their heads as they fought their way through the crowd, breathing a simultaneous sigh of relief when they finally made it into the warmth of the classroom. Nikola quickly took of his coat, hanging it by the wall before turning back to help Helen with hers. She was standing, turned away from him slightly.

She was unfastening her coat and Nikola found himself entranced by the slender column of her neck that was exposed. Her hair was a little windswept and her cheeks pink from the cold. Her dress was, although well worn, out of place in such a dreary room as the one they were in. She seemed to notice his eyes on her and turned her head, looking over her shoulder slightly, a small smile on her lips.

Nikola thought his knees might give out any second. She was, quite unintentionally, he was certain, giving him the most coquettish smile he'd ever seen. Suddenly he felt too hot, his face almost burning as he stood, rooted to the spot. Confusion clouded her lovely eyes for a moment and he snapped out of his revere.

With what he hoped was a warm smile, he stepped forward, taking from her, her thick coat. She smiled graciously at him before beginning to rummage through the satchel bag she was carrying, strapped to her body. He took his time hanging up her coat, trying to be subtle as he took in the gentle perfume of her that clung to it.

When he turned around, she was standing, waiting for him with a large smile.

"I had no idea you were in this class," she commented earnestly as he gestured for her to choose their seats.

"I don't usually come," he admitted. "But now that I am assured of such excellent company, I shall endeavour to attend more often," he said with a smile. She chuckled at him before settling in a seat.

"You flatter me," she accused with a smile as he sat next to her. He glanced around the room and realised he wasn't nearly as late as he'd expected. He almost cursed at the blasted clock in his room that was clearly broken again before realising that they had a full 20 minutes almost to themselves before the lecture would begin.

"I trust you had an enjoyable New Years?" he asked conversationally, hoping his nerves didn't show.

"Quite," she responded happily. "Father and I attended another of Dr. Watson's parties. I rather expected you to be there." She almost sounded disappointed, he noted with glee. Then he realised he probably looked like a complete fool because he was now grinning broadly.

"I'm not one for parties," he explained sheepishly, turning in his seat so that he was almost facing her.

"I noticed." The words seemed to slip out before she could stop them. Her eyes went wide and she took a worried little breath before biting her bottom lip. "I'm so sorry," she gushed, her hand flying out to rest on his arm. "I don't know what came over me!"

"It's fine," he said softly with a genuine smile as he laid his hand to rest on hers. Her hand, not daintily feminie but graceful and competent, was burning through the fabric of his jacket. They simply sat there for an almost unending moment, eyes wide as they tried to gauge how the other was feeling.

Helen could feel the embarrassment dissipating as it was replaced by something else entirely. A fire was raging through her body, emanating from her hand, still resting in a rather improper way on his arm. It was a peculiar feeling. Her hand was burning up but she could no more remove it than stop breathing. His blue grey eyes were still locked with hers and she felt a flash of pride when she realised that a flush was creeping up his neck.

She started to get lightheaded, confused because she was taking such deep breaths. Suddenly the colour seemed to drain from her peripheral vision, focusing her gaze even more intently on his eyes as they posed her a silent question that she did not know how to answer.

There was a loud bang and they both jumped back. Helen realised that the doors must have slammed shut but she didn't see it, she was still staring at the peculiar man before her. His eyes had flicked away from hers at the distraction and, acting on instinct, she pulled her hand away from him although now she was beginning to regret the decision. Her hand seemed to tingle with the loss of contact , feeling cold and foreign to her.

All of this, however, faded into the background as he looked back to her. There was a pause before his mouth curled into a smirk. Damn her pale cheeks! She could feel the raging blush staining her them. He chuckled so quietly she wasn't certain she'd heard it until his smirk grew deeper. Cheeky.

"Is something the matter Mr. Tesla? I'm afraid you've developed quite a grimace there," she said smoothly, her voice somehow coming out steady. His face dropped immediately and she felt a swell giddy victory surge through her veins as he gulped down a breath. Unable to keep up the façade any longer, her mouth twitched momentarily and he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

She let out a soft giggle and he smiled at her. Pleased that they were at least on equal footing again, Helen shifted in her seat, moving to face him more directly. The bench in front of her restricted her movements but after rearranging her skirts a few times, they were able to look each other in the eye without too much effort.

Nikola smiled as he watched her fuss with all the layers surrounding her body. Her face was creased in concentration and she looked adorable. Eventually happy with her position, she turned her face towards him.

"How was Dr. Watson's party?" he asked cordially, reclining in his chair. Taking a cue from his lack of convention, she relaxed a little, her spine no longer ramrod straight as she laid one of her arms to rest on the table.

"Quite enjoyable," she said with a smile. She proceeded to detail exactly who was there and what was said with the precision of a scientist. "And then he proceeded to ask if it would be presumptuous of him to ask for a New Years' kiss," she exclaimed with a disbelieving laugh. Nikola laughed, secretly disbelieving too. Surely more than one such man was after her kisses! How could they not find her laugh utterly intoxicating, her mind ever so engaging or her eyes mystifying yet startlingly captivating?

"And what did you say?" Nikola asked, hoping his tone was jovial. He was enjoying the friendship that was seeming to bloom between them but the idea of her kissing someone else raised his hackles.

"I told him it would indeed be presumptuous before walking away from him!" she exclaimed. "Do you think me some kind of trollop, Mr. Tesla?" she asked, her voice laced with mock scorn.

"Never," he said with a grin and she laughed at him. He started to wonder if she realised he was serious. "And you must stop calling me that. If I am forced to use your Christian name then the obligation also falls to you," he joked and she smiled.

"Nikola."

He smiled softly, a genuine smile as she said his name. There was another of those unending moments but this one was cut short by the increasing noise of the crowd. Somehow the rest of class managed to enter without either of them noticed. With one final smile, Helen turned back to face the front of the room, pulling out two notebooks. One held her auditing notes, the other her notes from the classes she attended. Nikola felt a little under prepared, he had no materials with him, only a small pocket book he carried around to store his ideas in. Oh well, he decided as he made himself comfortable, she may be beautiful and enigmatic and intelligent and wearing a dress that made him think of sin… Now he couldn't remember what he was originally thinking about.

The next hour was monotonous in the extreme but Nikola kept his spirits up by uttering disparaging little comments about futile minds and inexcusable ignorance. Of course the fact that Helen was having to stifle her laughter only fuelled his ego, his comments becoming more flamboyant as they continued. By the time they stood to leave, he could see the tears in her eyes, a grin on her face as she chuckled softly.

"I barely heard a word of what the professor was saying," she chastised as he held open the door for her. Nikola let out a smug chuckle as they started to walk over the wet ground. She heard him and rolled her eyes before reaching out to smack his arm lightly. "I'll never get accepted to Oxford if I get a reputation for being the giggling girl," she told him, picking up the pace slightly.

"Then please accept my deepest apologies," Nikola said solemnly, earning himself another laugh. He was a little startled at the fact she seemed so comfortable with touching him but he was certainly not complaining. "Do you have another class to go to?" Nikola asked as they came to a stop near a frozen lake.

"Not for a few hours," she replied with a bright smile, pleased with the easy rhythm they had slipped into, even more pleased when his face lit up.

"Would you like to go to lunch?" he asked politely and she could him trying to disguise just how eager he was. He looked like a small child asking for a shiny penny.

"It is a bit early for lunch," she reminded him and his face fell. "But I'd love a cup of tea." He perked up again and she smiled, realising she was just as eager as he was. He seemed to be debating something internally and the question as to what was on the tip of her tongue but before she could ask, he spoke again.

"Shall we?" he said, gesturing for them to continue walking. She wondered if he'd been debating offering her an arm and she was both glad and disappointed that he didn't, she wasn't certain she could survive that fire again.

They strolled in a comfortable silence as Helen questioned the wisdom of her decision. By the time they we seated, the sun had come out again and she smiled.

"I've never been one dreary days," she said in answer to his raised eyebrow.

"Then I believe you are in the wrong country," Nikola responded darkly.

"I take it you aren't fond of the rain either," she asked with a laugh.

"Rain makes things wet and muddy which inevitably leads to mess," he said with a sigh and she laughed again. "Did I say something wrong?" he asked, confused at her response.

"No, no," she assured him. "It's just that I've never heard a man complain of mess. After all, you don't have to lug around bolts of fabric through filthy streets."

"True," he conceded. "But I'm not fond of the mess your great muddy skirts make either," he said slyly and she grinned at him before letting out a soft laugh. They fell again into silence.

Nikola was mesmerised. Helen wasn't watching him, her eyes instead fell on the frozen pond nearby, a small smile on her face at the ducks waddling by. Her face was luminous, the weak sun making her curls glimmer. She let out a soft giggle as one of the ducks slipped on the ice and he had to smile. She was so very simple but infinitely complex and Nikola couldn't help but look forward to figuring her out. She was startlingly beautiful yes but he wondered if she knew just how bone deep that beauty was. Golden hair and blue eyes aside, she was kind and considerate and painfully intelligent. So intelligent in fact, that after their conversations on Christmas eve, he'd actually followed some of her recommendations.

Even if he wasn't impressed by her mind, Nikola felt drawn to her. She was quickly becoming the centre of his world, revolving through his thoughts with alarming frequency. He found himself immensely glad that she seemed to like him too. She hadn't smiled tersely at him or tried to avoid his company. She'd even gone so far as to provide him with a second chance when he'd made that embarrassing gaff about lunch. Calling her angelic seemed to cheapen her but Nikola could come up with no other word to describe the fantastical woman in front of him. That and no angel would ever wear that dress. Just the colour had his mind spinning. Who cares about the contours it displayed when she was wearing a dress richer than wine?

Her eyes flicked back to him and he smiled before she blushed. He spent a fraction of a second wondering why she would feel that way but then realised she must have caught him staring at her.

Helen could feel her cheeks growing red but was well aware it had nothing to do with the meagre rays around them. He had been staring at her again, just the same as the night they'd met. But again, she didn't feel dirty or used. His eyes were studying her, appraising her. She wasn't a fool, men had always watched her but usually she felt herself annoyed at the thought, their blatant appreciation for nothing more than the handy work of a corset making her curse the curves she tried so very hard to cover up but with Nikola it was different. In front of him she felt bare, exposed, like every single one of her secrets was on display. She swallowed, feeling unsteady before she tried to smile back at him.

There was a brief pause before they both began speaking at once.

Helen laughed uncertainly, smiling sheepishly at him.

"Please," she said, gesturing for him to continue.

"After you," he insisted with a smile.

Helen took and uncertain breath and bit her lip.

"You were sitting under mistletoe," she blurted out before she could help herself.

Nikola's eyes bulged.

"That night at Dr. Watson's party," she continued, wondering why the hell she hadn't stopped speaking yet. 'You were sitting under the mistletoe. Did you know?"

"No," he croaked out and she felt a smirk crawling onto her face.

He… She… They… On… He…

Nikola's brain was completely non-functional.

She… Did… Mistletoe… They… He… Why…

She was…

Oh good, he thought, two words in the right order.

She was… smirking at him? His brain processed the thought as her eyes continued to dance merrily. At least she was having fun.

HE COULD HAVE KISSED HER!

All the blood that had drained from his brain was slowly making its way back there and he came up with a plan. He could feel his smirk beginning to mirror hers.

"Are you disappointed?" he asked quietly after a minute, impressed with the level of control he was displaying. Her face went blank and she cocked her head at him.

"Disappointed by what?" she asked, her voice filled with innocence as she leant towards him.

"That I didn't kiss you," he finished, glad to see her just as shocked as he had been only moments before. She let out a weird little splutter before glancing around them.

Nikola's heart froze.

"I'm sorry," he rushed, feeling the shame flood his body. "That was inappropriate of me." Somewhere in the past few minutes he'd forgotten that they were barely acquaintances.

"It's fine," she said, waving a gloved had absently, her voice tight. Nikola stared at the table in front of him, terrified that he'd seen anger in her eyes. He waited to hear the rustle of her skirts as she stood up and strode away from him in anger but the sound never came. Slowly, he raised his head and was startled to find she was staring at him.

Now what did you do that for, her mind chastised as she took in the sorrowful form across the table from her. He was sitting ramrod straight but his eyes were trained on the table and she could see the tension in his posture. So much for the gentleman, part of her mind scoffed. He didn't start it, another part argued.

From this angle his moustache looked even more ridiculous, she realised. But she could see the precision with which he parted his slick hair. All of a sudden she started to wonder just what his hair would look like when freed from the rather conservative style he kept. Her fingers ached to touch it, to see if it would be as soft her own just after she washed it. Next she'd trace the line of his ears. They were small but stuck out from his head in a way that made her think he'd be an adorable puppy.

Her mind stopped abruptly as he started to move his head. He looked up and gave her the most imploring look that she wanted nothing more than to reach out and hug him. No one should have to feel the pain she could see in his eyes. Part of her was screaming that he deserved to feel shame for his impetuous comments but the rest of her wanted nothing more than to soothe him.

"It's O.K," she repeated with a sincere smile. He looked uncertain and she rolled her eyes. "Nikola," she said, with a sigh. "Don't look so sad."

He smirked at that.

"Is that genuine concern?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"And what would I have to be concerned about?" she countered.

"That I might never give you another opportunity to kiss me," he said with a full blown grin.

"Careful," she warned and his grin grew further.

"Or what?" he teased, feeling completely at ease once more.

"Oh I'm sure I could think up some punishment," she said loftily before he snorted at her. "Cheeky," she said, trying to mask her grin.

"You don't fool me Miss Magnus," he said, leaning forward conspiratorially, pleased when she mirrored his actions. "I know you love it." She scoffed at that.

"Nor you I, Mr. Tesla," she retorted, leaning back. "You are most concerned that another such opportunity shan't be presented." She was a little taken aback by her own attitude but she refused to shy away from the fight.

"Very observant, Miss Magnus," he drawled. Now that she hadn't expected. He let out a laugh at her shock.

"And now you're provoking me!" she exclaimed with a laugh. "I should tell you that it won't help your cause."

"I think you underestimate me," he said evenly, the edge of his mouth twitching as he tried to keep a straight face.

"I am doing no such thing. I'll have you know Mr. Tesla that you are not the first libidinous man I've met." She watched with pleasure as he choked at her words.

"I'm no ordinary man," he retorted, pretending to be offended once he regained his composure.

"I'll believe that when I see it," she replied with a grin.


	4. Whispers: Nikola

The ground was still wet with the last of the snow and his boots were already covered in the slush. Ignoring the bitter cold water seeping into his shoes, Nikola sped up in an attempt to keep warm. Naturally, he was late. He'd been up all night, not thinking about an invention, for once. For the first time in his life, Nikola had found himself sleepless over a person, a woman. She'd plagued his dreams every night since they'd met.

All 15 of them, he'd counted.

Joining the crowd gathering outside the hall, Nikola felt himself starting to shiver. Why these blasted men couldn't very well hurry up he'd never understand. The sun was shining yes, but the wind was whipping around their faces and Nikola, who had grown up in Serbia of all places, was freezing. With increasing impatience, he elbowed his way through the crowd, desperately seeking the warmth of the classroom.

He stopped suddenly, still a few metres from the doors. He blinked a few times, trying to make sure his mind wasn't actually playing tricks on him. He could see a mass of blonde curls just ahead of him.

"Helen," he called out, his voice almost lost in the general hub-bub of the crowd but by some miraculous twist of fate, she heard him. She spun around, eyes searching for whoever felt comfortable enough to use her given name. Finally, her eyes locked on Nikola and she smiled. The pit of unease he felt disappeared immediately and he hurried to her side, elbowing away the few men who stood between them.

"Mr. Tesla," she said, beaming at him. Her hair was glistening in the soft morning light, eyes dancing. Her cheeks were slightly flushed and she was wearing a thick woollen coat drawn up around her neck to ward off the cold air, blocking all but the hem of her dark red dress.

"Nikola," he instructed with what he was certain was a rather goofy grin but she smiled none the less, her eyes twinkling at his presumed familiarity.

"Come on," he said, holding an arm around her, ushering her into the warm building. They both bowed their heads as they fought their way through the crowd, breathing a simultaneous sigh of relief when they finally made it into the warmth of the classroom. Nikola quickly took of his coat, hanging it by the wall before turning back to help Helen with hers. She was standing, turned away from him slightly.

She was unfastening her coat and Nikola found himself entranced by the slender column of her neck that was exposed. Her hair was a little windswept and her cheeks pink from the cold. Her dress was, although well worn, out of place in such a dreary room as the one they were in. She seemed to notice his eyes on her and turned her head, looking over her shoulder slightly, a small smile on her lips.

Nikola thought his knees might give out any second. She was, quite unintentionally, he was certain, giving him the most coquettish smile he'd ever seen. Suddenly he felt too hot, his face almost burning as he stood, rooted to the spot. Confusion clouded her lovely eyes for a moment and he snapped out of his revere.

With what he hoped was a warm smile, he stepped forward, taking from her, her thick coat. She smiled graciously at him before beginning to rummage through the satchel bag she was carrying, strapped to her body. He took his time hanging up her coat, trying to be subtle as he took in the gentle perfume of her that clung to it.

When he turned around, she was standing, waiting for him with a large smile.

"I had no idea you were in this class," she commented earnestly as he gestured for her to choose their seats.

"I don't usually come," he admitted. "But now that I am assured of such excellent company, I shall endeavour to attend more often," he said with a smile. She chuckled at him before settling in a seat.

"You flatter me," she accused with a smile as he sat next to her. He glanced around the room and realised he wasn't nearly as late as he'd expected. He almost cursed at the blasted clock in his room that was clearly broken again before realising that they had a full 20 minutes almost to themselves before the lecture would begin.

"I trust you had an enjoyable New Years?" he asked conversationally, hoping his nerves didn't show.

"Quite," she responded happily. "Father and I attended another of Dr. Watson's parties. I rather expected you to be there." She almost sounded disappointed, he noted with glee. Then he realised he probably looked like a complete fool because he was now grinning broadly.

"I'm not one for parties," he explained sheepishly, turning in his seat so that he was almost facing her.

"I noticed." The words seemed to slip out before she could stop them. Her eyes went wide and she took a worried little breath before biting her bottom lip. "I'm so sorry," she gushed, her hand flying out to rest on his arm. "I don't know what came over me!"

"It's fine," he said softly with a genuine smile as he laid his hand to rest on hers. Her hand, not daintily feminie but graceful and competent, was burning through the fabric of his jacket. They simply sat there for an almost unending moment, eyes wide as they tried to gauge how the other was feeling.

Helen could feel the embarrassment dissipating as it was replaced by something else entirely. A fire was raging through her body, emanating from her hand, still resting in a rather improper way on his arm. It was a peculiar feeling. Her hand was burning up but she could no more remove it than stop breathing. His blue grey eyes were still locked with hers and she felt a flash of pride when she realised that a flush was creeping up his neck.

She started to get lightheaded, confused because she was taking such deep breaths. Suddenly the colour seemed to drain from her peripheral vision, focusing her gaze even more intently on his eyes as they posed her a silent question that she did not know how to answer.

There was a loud bang and they both jumped back. Helen realised that the doors must have slammed shut but she didn't see it, she was still staring at the peculiar man before her. His eyes had flicked away from hers at the distraction and, acting on instinct, she pulled her hand away from him although now she was beginning to regret the decision. Her hand seemed to tingle with the loss of contact , feeling cold and foreign to her.

All of this, however, faded into the background as he looked back to her. There was a pause before his mouth curled into a smirk. Damn her pale cheeks! She could feel the raging blush staining her them. He chuckled so quietly she wasn't certain she'd heard it until his smirk grew deeper. Cheeky.

"Is something the matter Mr. Tesla? I'm afraid you've developed quite a grimace there," she said smoothly, her voice somehow coming out steady. His face dropped immediately and she felt a swell giddy victory surge through her veins as he gulped down a breath. Unable to keep up the façade any longer, her mouth twitched momentarily and he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

She let out a soft giggle and he smiled at her. Pleased that they were at least on equal footing again, Helen shifted in her seat, moving to face him more directly. The bench in front of her restricted her movements but after rearranging her skirts a few times, they were able to look each other in the eye without too much effort.

Nikola smiled as he watched her fuss with all the layers surrounding her body. Her face was creased in concentration and she looked adorable. Eventually happy with her position, she turned her face towards him.

"How was Dr. Watson's party?" he asked cordially, reclining in his chair. Taking a cue from his lack of convention, she relaxed a little, her spine no longer ramrod straight as she laid one of her arms to rest on the table.

"Quite enjoyable," she said with a smile. She proceeded to detail exactly who was there and what was said with the precision of a scientist. "And then he proceeded to ask if it would be presumptuous of him to ask for a New Years' kiss," she exclaimed with a disbelieving laugh. Nikola laughed, secretly disbelieving too. Surely more than one such man was after her kisses! How could they not find her laugh utterly intoxicating, her mind ever so engaging or her eyes mystifying yet startlingly captivating?

"And what did you say?" Nikola asked, hoping his tone was jovial. He was enjoying the friendship that was seeming to bloom between them but the idea of her kissing someone else raised his hackles.

"I told him it would indeed be presumptuous before walking away from him!" she exclaimed. "Do you think me some kind of trollop, Mr. Tesla?" she asked, her voice laced with mock scorn.

"Never," he said with a grin and she laughed at him. He started to wonder if she realised he was serious. "And you must stop calling me that. If I am forced to use your Christian name then the obligation also falls to you," he joked and she smiled.

"Nikola."

He smiled softly, a genuine smile as she said his name. There was another of those unending moments but this one was cut short by the increasing noise of the crowd. Somehow the rest of class managed to enter without either of them noticed. With one final smile, Helen turned back to face the front of the room, pulling out two notebooks. One held her auditing notes, the other her notes from the classes she attended. Nikola felt a little under prepared, he had no materials with him, only a small pocket book he carried around to store his ideas in. Oh well, he decided as he made himself comfortable, she may be beautiful and enigmatic and intelligent and wearing a dress that made him think of sin… Now he couldn't remember what he was originally thinking about.

The next hour was monotonous in the extreme but Nikola kept his spirits up by uttering disparaging little comments about futile minds and inexcusable ignorance. Of course the fact that Helen was having to stifle her laughter only fuelled his ego, his comments becoming more flamboyant as they continued. By the time they stood to leave, he could see the tears in her eyes, a grin on her face as she chuckled softly.

"I barely heard a word of what the professor was saying," she chastised as he held open the door for her. Nikola let out a smug chuckle as they started to walk over the wet ground. She heard him and rolled her eyes before reaching out to smack his arm lightly. "I'll never get accepted to Oxford if I get a reputation for being the giggling girl," she told him, picking up the pace slightly.

"Then please accept my deepest apologies," Nikola said solemnly, earning himself another laugh. He was a little startled at the fact she seemed so comfortable with touching him but he was certainly not complaining. "Do you have another class to go to?" Nikola asked as they came to a stop near a frozen lake.

"Not for a few hours," she replied with a bright smile, pleased with the easy rhythm they had slipped into, even more pleased when his face lit up.

"Would you like to go to lunch?" he asked politely and she could him trying to disguise just how eager he was. He looked like a small child asking for a shiny penny.

"It is a bit early for lunch," she reminded him and his face fell. "But I'd love a cup of tea." He perked up again and she smiled, realising she was just as eager as he was. He seemed to be debating something internally and the question as to what was on the tip of her tongue but before she could ask, he spoke again.

"Shall we?" he said, gesturing for them to continue walking. She wondered if he'd been debating offering her an arm and she was both glad and disappointed that he didn't, she wasn't certain she could survive that fire again.

They strolled in a comfortable silence as Helen questioned the wisdom of her decision. By the time they we seated, the sun had come out again and she smiled.

"I've never been one dreary days," she said in answer to his raised eyebrow.

"Then I believe you are in the wrong country," Nikola responded darkly.

"I take it you aren't fond of the rain either," she asked with a laugh.

"Rain makes things wet and muddy which inevitably leads to mess," he said with a sigh and she laughed again. "Did I say something wrong?" he asked, confused at her response.

"No, no," she assured him. "It's just that I've never heard a man complain of mess. After all, you don't have to lug around bolts of fabric through filthy streets."

"True," he conceded. "But I'm not fond of the mess your great muddy skirts make either," he said slyly and she grinned at him before letting out a soft laugh. They fell again into silence.

Nikola was mesmerised. Helen wasn't watching him, her eyes instead fell on the frozen pond nearby, a small smile on her face at the ducks waddling by. Her face was luminous, the weak sun making her curls glimmer. She let out a soft giggle as one of the ducks slipped on the ice and he had to smile. She was so very simple but infinitely complex and Nikola couldn't help but look forward to figuring her out. She was startlingly beautiful yes but he wondered if she knew just how bone deep that beauty was. Golden hair and blue eyes aside, she was kind and considerate and painfully intelligent. So intelligent in fact, that after their conversations on Christmas eve, he'd actually followed some of her recommendations.

Even if he wasn't impressed by her mind, Nikola felt drawn to her. She was quickly becoming the centre of his world, revolving through his thoughts with alarming frequency. He found himself immensely glad that she seemed to like him too. She hadn't smiled tersely at him or tried to avoid his company. She'd even gone so far as to provide him with a second chance when he'd made that embarrassing gaff about lunch. Calling her angelic seemed to cheapen her but Nikola could come up with no other word to describe the fantastical woman in front of him. That and no angel would ever wear that dress. Just the colour had his mind spinning. Who cares about the contours it displayed when she was wearing a dress richer than wine?

Her eyes flicked back to him and he smiled before she blushed. He spent a fraction of a second wondering why she would feel that way but then realised she must have caught him staring at her.

Helen could feel her cheeks growing red but was well aware it had nothing to do with the meagre rays around them. He had been staring at her again, just the same as the night they'd met. But again, she didn't feel dirty or used. His eyes were studying her, appraising her. She wasn't a fool, men had always watched her but usually she felt herself annoyed at the thought, their blatant appreciation for nothing more than the handy work of a corset making her curse the curves she tried so very hard to cover up but with Nikola it was different. In front of him she felt bare, exposed, like every single one of her secrets was on display. She swallowed, feeling unsteady before she tried to smile back at him.

There was a brief pause before they both began speaking at once.

Helen laughed uncertainly, smiling sheepishly at him.

"Please," she said, gesturing for him to continue.

"After you," he insisted with a smile.

Helen took and uncertain breath and bit her lip.

"You were sitting under mistletoe," she blurted out before she could help herself.

Nikola's eyes bulged.

"That night at Dr. Watson's party," she continued, wondering why the hell she hadn't stopped speaking yet. 'You were sitting under the mistletoe. Did you know?"

"No," he croaked out and she felt a smirk crawling onto her face.

He… She… They… On… He…

Nikola's brain was completely non-functional.

She… Did… Mistletoe… They… He… Why…

She was…

Oh good, he thought, two words in the right order.

She was… smirking at him? His brain processed the thought as her eyes continued to dance merrily. At least she was having fun.

HE COULD HAVE KISSED HER!

All the blood that had drained from his brain was slowly making its way back there and he came up with a plan. He could feel his smirk beginning to mirror hers.

"Are you disappointed?" he asked quietly after a minute, impressed with the level of control he was displaying. Her face went blank and she cocked her head at him.

"Disappointed by what?" she asked, her voice filled with innocence as she leant towards him.

"That I didn't kiss you," he finished, glad to see her just as shocked as he had been only moments before. She let out a weird little splutter before glancing around them.

Nikola's heart froze.

"I'm sorry," he rushed, feeling the shame flood his body. "That was inappropriate of me." Somewhere in the past few minutes he'd forgotten that they were barely acquaintances.

"It's fine," she said, waving a gloved had absently, her voice tight. Nikola stared at the table in front of him, terrified that he'd seen anger in her eyes. He waited to hear the rustle of her skirts as she stood up and strode away from him in anger but the sound never came. Slowly, he raised his head and was startled to find she was staring at him.

Now what did you do that for, her mind chastised as she took in the sorrowful form across the table from her. He was sitting ramrod straight but his eyes were trained on the table and she could see the tension in his posture. So much for the gentleman, part of her mind scoffed. He didn't start it, another part argued.

From this angle his moustache looked even more ridiculous, she realised. But she could see the precision with which he parted his slick hair. All of a sudden she started to wonder just what his hair would look like when freed from the rather conservative style he kept. Her fingers ached to touch it, to see if it would be as soft her own just after she washed it. Next she'd trace the line of his ears. They were small but stuck out from his head in a way that made her think he'd be an adorable puppy.

Her mind stopped abruptly as he started to move his head. He looked up and gave her the most imploring look that she wanted nothing more than to reach out and hug him. No one should have to feel the pain she could see in his eyes. Part of her was screaming that he deserved to feel shame for his impetuous comments but the rest of her wanted nothing more than to soothe him.

"It's O.K," she repeated with a sincere smile. He looked uncertain and she rolled her eyes. "Nikola," she said, with a sigh. "Don't look so sad."

He smirked at that.

"Is that genuine concern?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"And what would I have to be concerned about?" she countered.

"That I might never give you another opportunity to kiss me," he said with a full blown grin.

"Careful," she warned and his grin grew further.

"Or what?" he teased, feeling completely at ease once more.

"Oh I'm sure I could think up some punishment," she said loftily before he snorted at her. "Cheeky," she said, trying to mask her grin.

"You don't fool me Miss Magnus," he said, leaning forward conspiratorially, pleased when she mirrored his actions. "I know you love it." She scoffed at that.

"Nor you I, Mr. Tesla," she retorted, leaning back. "You are most concerned that another such opportunity shan't be presented." She was a little taken aback by her own attitude but she refused to shy away from the fight.

"Very observant, Miss Magnus," he drawled. Now that she hadn't expected. He let out a laugh at her shock.

"And now you're provoking me!" she exclaimed with a laugh. "I should tell you that it won't help your cause."

"I think you underestimate me," he said evenly, the edge of his mouth twitching as he tried to keep a straight face.

"I am doing no such thing. I'll have you know Mr. Tesla that you are not the first libidinous man I've met." She watched with pleasure as he choked at her words.

"I'm no ordinary man," he retorted, pretending to be offended once he regained his composure.

"I'll believe that when I see it," she replied with a grin.


	5. Whispers: Helen

"But she's a woman. Why on earth would they let her in here? Is her father on the board of governors or something?" one man whispered to his friend as they sat in the back row of the lecture theatre.

"Don't worry, she's only auditing classes. Oxford hasn't lost all its standards yet," the friend whispered back.

"But why would she want to be here? Honestly, doesn't she want to find a husband? No one will have her if word of this gets out. She's beautiful but what man would want a woman who acts like a man," the first man said, shaking his head as he eyed the blonde a few rows ahead of him.

"I heard she's almost 30 years old," the other whispered scathingly. "Maybe she's here because she can't find a husband." The two men snickered, still staring at her back. Helen bit her tongue, trying to pretend she wasn't the subject of their amusement. They were talking about anyone, anything else. It wasn't her. It wasn't her. It wasn't her.

She saw Nikola's hand clench into a fist on the desk beside her and she had to fight the urge to cover his hand with hers. This kind of taunting wasn't anything new and while it may be a little more overt than normal, for the most part Helen knew she could deal with it but seeing Nikola so upset on her behalf was too much. That thought made her pause. How did she know for sure that her discomfort was the source of his? Was she being presumptuous? Maybe he was just upset at whatever ridiculous theory their lecturer was trying to push on them now. Whatever the cause was, she tried to ignore it too, forcing her hand to continue across the page in an imitation of her usually erratic yet detailed notes. Nikola was a friend, a good, honest and loyal friend who had shown her nothing but respect. He was a gentleman and regardless of his sometimes flirty comments, he had proven himself to want nothing more than her friendship, something that both impressed and startled her. Most men, such as the boorish oafs behind her wanted less of her company and more of her favours. Even if she was almost 30… She could feel her tenuous grip on her self control fading away as she slipped back into the present.

They were fools, she told herself. They were idiots. Idiotic fools. They were… they were… she searched for the words as she bit her lip to keep it from trembling. They were stupid!

Oh, excellent work Helen, really brilliant, she chastised herself. With all the words at your disposal, definitely choose to go with stupid, totally the best one to go with. She stifled a groan at herself and tried to focus on the class before her. Something about the division of organisms. Gripping her pencil tighter, Helen realised there was no way she was going to be able to concentrate on this class, even if she didn't already understand the flawed theory, it was plain old boring.

Straightening her back, Helen held her shoulders completely still. Then, as if in slow motion, she felt a single, traitorous tear escape her eye. Why was she crying? Since when did these kind of jibes get to her? She kept her head still, feeling the small bead of water track down over her cheek and she fought the urge to wipe it away, knowing that if she did, more would follow. Keeping her eyes on her steady scrawl, Helen was a little shocked to see a few tears already dotting the paper. Clenching her jaw, she forced her hand to keep up its charade.

The next hour was pure torture, each second dragging her further into a rather emotional and flighty state she generally tried to avoid. She knew the occasional tear was still sliding down her cheek but, after angling her head just so, she was fairly sure that her tears were hidden. The tears, while uncharacteristic didn't surprise Helen in the slightest, in fact, she'd had the exact same reaction the week prior when she'd managed to overhear two of the most respected professors on campus questioning her ability to comprehend the syllabus. They'd laughed openly at the idea that a woman could practice medicine.

"You mark my words. Next thing you know they'll be expecting the right to vote," one of them had joked. The other answered with a scoff and a rather obscene comment unbefitting someone of such esteemed intelligence.

At the time, Helen had been mortified and had rushed home as quickly as she could, only stopping to process what they'd said when she was finally alone. Then, back pressed against the library door, she fell apart. She'd been fighting this for so long that now it was beginning to feel like one hell of a war. Why was it that they could accept women as superior child carers but when that same dedication was applied to scientific pursuits, she was an oddity? She was as smart as any man and had proven it time and time again but still, they refused to acknowledge it. And it wasn't as if they were talking about anyone but her. No other woman had applied to the university with such regularity as she had. The exhaustion of this uphill battle had finally caught up to her and while she'd never give up the fight, the temptation was strong.

The maids had been so terrified of seeing their usually unflappable mistress in such obvious distress that they'd called for her father straight away. He had come quickly and was just as perturbed as the others when he caught sight of her shaking form. It had taken a good few minutes for him to pry the story out of her. She had been reluctant in telling him, after all, what good would it do? And, unsurprisingly, once he'd heard the full tale, he was livid, just about ready to head back to the university and "teach them some manners." Of course, his behaviour made Helen roll her eyes but she was secretly a little glad she hadn't mentioned the names of anyone involved because even though she knew there was nothing he could actually do to hurt anyone, people often believed he had the ability to carry out his threats.

But the truth of it was, Helen didn't really belong there. She didn't fit in with any particular group and nor did she have the respect of any of the other students. Except maybe Nikola. Steeling herself, Helen glanced out of the corner of her eye, upset to see Nikola still looking so tense. His hands were clenched on the desk, shoulders tight with a determination she couldn't understand. Suddenly, she noticed movement. People were standing up, getting ready to leave. It was finally over. Letting out the breath she'd been holding, Helen stood up, grabbed her satchel and took off, walking as fast as her skirts would allow. Only when she finally made it out of the room, did she take a breath. The sunlight was weak but she was thankful for the slight chill in the air.

Stepping out of the steady stream of people, Helen's eyes immediately settled on the bench next to the door. Knees already feeling weak, she stumbled to the side, sinking down onto the undoubtedly wet surface, not caring about ruining her dress. Taking in a deep breath, she rested her head back against the stone wall and closed her eyes, willing those last salty tears to disappear.

"Miss Magnus? Are you alright?" a deep voice asked and Helen sat upright. With the sun behind him, she was having a hard time making out his features but that voice was instantly recognizable.

"Mr. Druitt," she said, her voice breathy and a few octaves higher than normal. Instantly she felt the colour in her cheeks rise. Cursing herself, Helen sat up a little straighter and forced what she hoped was a polite smile onto her face.

"Have I not already asked you to call me John?" he asked, his amusement evident in his tone.

"Of course, John. Please, sit," she corrected herself, a nervous little flutter in her chest. He was a perfect gentleman, tall, dark and handsome with a smile that set her heart on fire. He was everything a woman was told to look for in a man and she couldn't help but react to the fine specimen that he was.

"Thank you Miss. Magnus," he said as he settled next to her on the small bench. There wasn't much room and, as he got comfortable, his long, lean legs jostled her skirts, setting off her already buzzing nerves again.

"Helen," she said. "Call me Helen." The words caught in her throat but she felt completely comfortable with blaming his smile for that particular reaction.

"Helen," he said, bowing his head to her. Her name rolled off his tongue with reverence, as if she were something infinitely more important to him than the daughter of his acquaintance. "Are you quite alright?" he asked softly, leaning towards her in a way that, had they been alone, would have been vastly improper. As it was, she didn't think her reputation would garner much admiration. Not only was she sitting here in the sunshine with a man she had only the slimmest acquaintances with but the only other friend she'd made at the university was an equally ridiculed man who made her laugh at the most inappropriate of times.

Instantly, a bolt of regret flashed through her body. She'd all but run away from him without even an explanation. If he was as upset as she suspected, she should at least have thanked him for his concern. Opening her mouth to assure John before making her excuses to go and find Nikola, Helen found herself cut off by the voice of her Serbian friend floating through the door. All for soaking up the sunlight, most people had escaped the building quickly, fleeing for the sun filled grounds, leaving their position relatively deserted, making his voice loud and clear.

"You two should really be more careful with your words," Nikola said. His voice was more even than Helen had ever heard it and something about it was faintly terrifying.

"What was that Tesla?" a man asked. The voice sounded familiar. Helen shivered. It was one of the men. Without thinking, she grabbed John's hand, holding it tight between their bodies.

"Your little display of your unintelligence was far too audible," Nikola said. A rising pit of dread began to grow in Helen's stomach. The last thing she wanted was for Nikola to get hurt because she was born the wrong gender.

"Are you calling us dumb?" a different voice said and again, Helen recognized it. Her hand tightened on John's. She could see the confusion on his face but she was paralysed. She could no more explain what had prompted this than she could go and stop it or even run away.

"No, simply simple," was Nikola's smooth response. Helen let out a strangled, involuntary chuckle. Trust Nikola to pick a fight only to use his mind rather than his fists. Despite the idiocy of the idea, it warmed her heart. He didn't know she was here but he was still defending her.

"Do you fancy our little female scientist?" the first man sneered as the other snickered. "She's about the only woman who would look twice at a rat faced weasel like you." Helen's hand tightened further but by this point, she had no idea she was holding John's hand. She held her breath, waiting for his response. Not that she could admit it but the idea had kept her up once or twice. Their friendship was so easy and uncomplicated and while she didn't want to complicate it, she had wondered if he was interested in more.

"My feelings have nothing to do with this conversation. All that matters is your incredibly thick skulls," was Nikola's throaty response. Helen swallowed a sigh of disappointment. She wasn't vain and she didn't need for Nikola to be in love with her but his response was so quick and vehemently delivered that she knew that he didn't even consider it a possibility. Making sure to take a deep breath, Helen loosened her grip on John's hand. Despite the romanticism the story would present, it was probably a very good thing that he didn't feel anything untoward toward her, it kept things simple.

"Get lost, Tesla. Go play with your little freak of a woman," the second man said with a belly laugh, cutting through her thoughts. As if suddenly coming back to reality, Helen withdrew her hand from John's completely, giving his now furious face a cursory glance before presenting him with a small smile.

"Miss Magnus is no 'freak.' She has twice the capacity for learning that you possess Travis. Let's not forget who failed mathematics," Nikola said scathingly and she could almost picture the smirk that was undoubtedly twisting his face.

"Are you saying that that woman, if you can call her that, is smarter than me?" the second man said and Helen felt a bolt of fear. She felt John tense next to her, as if preparing to fight.

"The female mind has demonstrated a capacity for all the mental acquirements and achievements of man," Nikola spat, his accent becoming more and more noticeable as he spoke, "and as generations ensue that capacity will be expanded; the average woman will be as well educated as the average man, and then better educated, for the dormant faculties of her brain will be stimulated to an activity that will be all the more intense and powerful because of centuries repose. Women will ignore precedent and startle civilization with their progress and Miss Magnus is no exception."

Helen's eyes widened. That was quite a speech.

"Not that you'd understand any of that."

She knew what was coming before she heard the sickening crunch of flesh hitting flesh followed by the staggered steps of Nikola. At least he didn't hit the ground.

"Insult me again and I'll do more than mess up your pretty face," the first man threatened. There was a pause and then the unmistakeable sound of Nikola's wiry frame being thrown to the ground. Helen screwed her eyes shut and took a deep breath, ignoring John's kind words. This wasn't right. She could deal with the ridicule, she'd been dealing with it her entire adult life but he shouldn't be abused because of their relationship. Helen opened her eyes just in time to see her two attackers walking away from her, oblivious to her presence. She turned to John and was prepared to give an excuse but she closed her mouth when she heard Nikola's footsteps on the cobbled floor. Turning towards the door, she steeled herself. Crying wasn't going to do anyone any good now. Though she still didn't understand why he'd do something so ridiculously stupid yet so beautifully sweet.

He took a few steps, turned in their direction and then froze, eyes wide as he took in her shocked face. Slowly and with a grimace she assumed was the product of his already swelling jaw, he held out the notebook she'd left behind. Giving him a small smile, she reached out and took it from him, eyes darting to John for some unknown reason. The action would make her look guilty but she couldn't help the it.

"Mr. Tesla I presume," John said smoothly, standing up.

Nikola merely nodded, his gaze flicking between them before settling on Helen again. He was again posing a question to her that she couldn't even comprehend, let alone answer.

"Druitt. Montague John Druitt, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," John said, once again filling in the uncomfortable silence.

"Yes, quite," Nikola replied, looking a little confused and her heart went out to him.

"Well, Miss Magnus, I'm afraid I must be off or I'll miss my chemistry class," John said, turning to face her, giving her a small smile of understanding before bowing. "I trust you'll be alright here with Mr. Tesla." His words were tight, laced with what she gathered was concern. She got the feeling that John was just as upset about the way she'd been treated as Nikola had been and the thought made her feel rather odd.

"Of course, thank you for sitting with me Mr. Druitt," she said with a genuine smile, standing up. The perfect gentleman had lived up to his name, not mentioning her rather inappropriate conduct from earlier. He brushed his lips against the back of her hand and she tried to repress her shiver. Straightening up, he smiled at her before turning to face Nikola. The two men shared a tight smile before John walked away. She watched his broad shoulders retreat into the distance before turning her attention to Nikola who was also watching the path down which John had just disappeared. She let out a delicate cough, unsure of how to thank him and chastise him for his crazy behaviour.

He turned towards her and she had to subdue a wince. His jaw was getting more and more inflamed by the minute.

"Nikola," she softly chastised. "What did you do?" Tentatively she stepped towards him and raised her hand to brush her fingertips across his bruised jaw. He smiled weakly at her and she smiled back, hoping he didn't see the foolishly infantile admiration in her eyes.

"Come on, let's take you back to my father's place. I'll fix you something to take away the pain," she said soothingly, unthinkingly placing a hand on his arm as if it was the most natural action in the world. By the time she'd realised she'd done it, they were already walking quickly towards where her carriage was being stored. She wanted to comfort him, that was all and, as a good doctor, she knew that human contact was like a healing balm for the soul. Or something.

They clambered into the carriage silently and, as they lurched away from the university her eyes were drawn to his rather unsightly jaw. She knew he was avoiding looking at her but she couldn't help but stare. It was the first time she'd ever admired stupidity in a man. This mark that was no doubt causing him supreme pain but she couldn't help but admire the lengths he had gone to, to acquire it. The trip was long an painfully silent but, as the carriage began to slow, Helen was relieved. Though how she was going to manage getting out of a carriage in the middle of the street with a strange man in tow without being seen by the gossiping ladies with whom she rarely chatted she had no idea.

Just as the door swung open, Nikola was on his feet, stepping out of the carriage before holding his hand up to her. She blinked at him a few times before smiling softly and accepting his hand. The gesture, as common place as it was, was inexplicably sweet and she felt her affections for him grow.

"Miss Magnus!" exclaimed Brigette as the door swung open. Helen looked up, grateful it was her own maid that answered the door and not the rather grumpy cook who would ask too many questions and quite possibly refuse to let him in.

"Thank you Brigette," Helen said as she hurried Nikola up the stairs. She didn't miss Brigette's glances up and down the street and, while she knew she should feel more fear at the risk of losing what little reputation she had, this was Nikola and she wouldn't let something that trivial get between them. The door swung shut behind them and Helen turned to face the rather shocked looking maid.

"I'm going to use my father's office," she said, removing her cloak and gesturing for Nikola to do the same. "Is he in?"

"No miss," she said as she accepted the cloaks. "He said he'd be back tomorrow evening at the earliest and to tell you that you shouldn't wait up for him."

"Thank you Brigette," Helen said as she began to pull Nikola towards the corridor at the back of the house. Again, their trip was silent and she wondered what Nikola thought of the house. She knew it was silly and vapid but she honestly wanted to know if he liked it. Treading the familiar path helped to shake such thoughts from her mind but, as she came to a sudden stop outside the door she was looking for, she felt Nikola's hot breath on the back of her neck and she had to repress a shiver as well as fight the urge to close her eyes.

"In here," she said, throwing open the door for him to walk through. He stepped through, eyes wide with wonder. Helen had to stifle a giggle at his reaction. Having grown up always having a room such as this in the house, it seemed commonplace to her but Nikola was not the first person to react like this at the sight of the messy, convoluted office. Remembering her original reason in coming here, Helen pushed him towards the two chairs on one side of the desk. Certain he was seated, Helen turned away from him, quickly gathering up the things she needed without second thought. She knew what she was doing and her fingers moved with practiced ease over the bottles, searching for just the right ingredients. She could feel Nikola's eyes on her back but she didn't really care at this point. After a few moments of fussing about she turned and dragged the spare chair closer to him. After gently placing everything on the adjacent desk , she stripped off her light gloves that she'd forgotten to discard earlier. She sat down and, as her knees brushed against his, she felt little shocks run up and down her spine. Shaking it off, she sank into doctor mode, noting how he tensed. His jaw must really be hurting, she realised with a start and her heart softened.

"Here," she said quietly. She grasped his chin softly and manoeuvred his head until she was able to inspect the injury. She was able to stop the chastising cluck her tongue made so she turned to her supplies instead, hoping he didn't hear it. It was her fault he was in this position. Biting her lip she prepared the poultice, grateful to have something to do with her hands. All too soon it was done and those tears were still forming in her eyes. Swallowing her pride, she turned back to him, placing the fabric on the still forming bruise. He shivered but raised his hand to cover hers. Their eyes locked and she slipped into another of those unending moments that he seemed to specialise in.

She could feel the tremors beginning in her hand and move through her entire body until her lip began to quiver. She stared into his eyes, wondering if she'd ever learn to read those icy blue orbs that swirled with emotions she couldn't place. Finally coming to her senses, Helen withdrew her hand. Nikola made an odd little noise that sounded far too much like a sigh and she felt her heart stick in her chest. Maybe she'd gone too far.

"Why did you do it?" she asked unable to stop her voice from cracking with emotion.

"Because they shouldn't have said it," he said in a startlingly direct manner.

"You shouldn't have said anything to them," she said, getting angry. He shouldn't have been so pig headed and… and… stupid, she decided, resorting to the insult she'd already used.

"How much did you hear?" he asked suddenly and she felt her cheeks flush.

"John and I heard every word," she whispered. When his face fell ever so slightly, she realised what she'd said and her eyes widened as she took in her mistake.

"I was waiting for you to come out and he approached me. He and father have become quite close and he was worried to see me sitting alone," she rushed.

"You don't have to explain it to me," Nikola said and she could hear the distance creeping into his voice. Nodding ever so slightly, she nodded. She lowered her gaze, unsure of what to say, feeling content to stare at his knees until he spoke again.

"I meant every word," Nikola said softly. Slowly she raised her head to smile at him. His blue eyes were unreadable.

"I know," she said simply. "Thank you."

He grimaced at her in what she guessed was an attempt at a smile and she couldn't help but laugh at him.

"It's not funny," he complained, making her laugh harder. "I was defending your honour, the least you could do is pretend to feel sorry for me," he moaned.

"My hero," she said sarcastically, pretending to swoon over his manly behaviour.

"Now you're just adding insult to injury," he groaned and she laughed at his jovial complaints. "Ungrateful," he muttered and she knew he was laying it on thick for her benefit. With a smile, she reached out and smacked his arm lightly.

"Haven't I been beaten enough for one day?" he argued, shifting away from her hand.

"I suppose you have," she conceded with another laugh. "And you're wrong, I am very grateful. Truly Nikola, I am," she said, surprising herself with the serious turn in the conversation. He stared at her and she could see him erecting walls to keep her out. She tried not to let it get to her, instead focusing on the twitch in his fingers, the only movement his otherwise stony body demonstrated.

"Nikola?" she asked, uncertain as to why he was staring into her eyes with apprehension.

"Think nothing of it," he said, waving his hand at her.

"No, really. I am grateful," she said, shuffling closer and taking his free hand. Again, she barely registered that she'd done it until his hand was firmly clasped between hers. She was rewarded with his most dazzling smile and a gentle squeeze of her hand. Pleased at his response she stood up, a little confused as his face fell but when she reached her hand out to him he smiled again. He accepted her hand but, she realised very quickly that she'd misjudged the distance between them and now he was all but pressed against the length of her body.

Flashing him what she hoped was an easy smile, she took his arm and again led him from the room. In a matter of moments she had him seated in her favourite sitting room with the tea service the maids had so discreetly provided.

"You can take that off now," Helen said, hoping to sound nonchalant as she poured them tea. She had a sneaking suspicion he hated tea but, considering he was yet to say as much, she was determined to pry the information out of him. He looked confused at her words but, as her eyes flicked to his jaw, he lowered the cloth. He looked at it sheepishly, as if uncertain as to wha he ought to do with it. With a sigh, Helen held out her hand, gesturing for him to pass if over.

"Give it here," she chastised lightly and he dropped the cloth into her hand. "Drink," she insisted, hiding a smirk as she stood. "I'll be right back."

With that, she turned and left the room. Outside she wasn't surprised to find Brigette waiting patiently.

"Can you ask Elsie-"

"She's already said she won't make lunch for a man of no moral standing," Brigette cut in with an apologetic look.

"She what?" Helen hissed. After everything he had don't for her, this wasn't what he deserved.

"You heard the girl Miss Magnus. I won't be makin' food for men who have no regard for a ladies reputation," the cook cut in as she rounded the corner. Helen drew herself up to her full height and puffed out her chest. Eyes glittering she stared at the insolent cook.

"You will make lunch for him Elsie because he is a good man who fought for my reputation today and was injured in the process. He does not deserve your scorn or slander and frankly, I will not tolerate it."

Not one for shows of power, Helen rarely pulled out her "I am the mistress of this house and you will listen to me" act but today she was happy to make an exception. She thought of Elsie as a mother and she knew the older woman was just looking out for her but after Nikola so gallantly fought for her, she felt she had no choice but to do the same.

The cook stared at the powerful looking figure before her for a few second before letting out a great, heaving sigh and turning away, muttering under her breath. Huffing her disapproval, Helen turned back to Brigette and held out the soiled cloth.

"Thank you Brigette," she said, a finality in her tone leaving no room for compromise. The girl curtseyed and Helen was certain there was laughter dancing in her eyes but, with a quick turn, the girl was gone. Straightening out, Helen turned back to the door. As she pushed it open she briefly wondered if there would be any more trouble from the cook.

"What is it? What's the matter?" Nikola asked, springing to his feet as she entered the room.

"Nothing, Elsie, the cook is just upset that I asked her to make us lunch," she said with a smile, covering her confusion at his reaction with an airy wave of her hand.

"She doesn't have to do that," he argued. "I'll walk back to the university and have lunch on campus."

"Nonsense Nikola. After everything that happened to you this morning, lunch is the least I can offer you," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Now sit, please."

She was a little surprise when he complied with her request and she could see the reluctance in his eyes.

"You do realise that this would create quite the scandal if it ever got out," he queried with a gesture between the two of them. Helen found herself wondering if he'd overheard the stern words she'd had with Elsie.

"I think, all things considered, my reputation should be the least of my concerns."

"I'm afraid your father may not see it that way," Nikola said, looking uncomfortable. She made a face at him, her father really wasn't that scary. He grinned back at her and she found herself glad her remedy had worked, his jaw didn't seem to be causing him as much pain any more.

"You're quite the doctor," he said with admiration, raising a hand to his jaw, prodding it experimentally.

"My father started to teach me a few years ago," she admitted. "After I was refused, yet again by the university."

His eyes darkened at the comment and she could see the biting comment forming on his tongue. Despite her interest in what exactly he was going to say next, she had a fair enough idea and thus held up her hand.

"I know, it's unfair."

They smiled at each other and Helen immediately felt at ease.

The rest of the day passed in something of a blur. Neither of them had the heart to return to their classes, instead spending the time laughing freely in her father's library as they poured over numerous scientific journals. Over lunch they debated the merits of old scientific principles. They didn't always see eye to eye and once or twice their discussion became quite heated, Nikola gesturing so wildly at one point that he knocked over the bottle of wine they were sharing. Helen had laughed in a good natured way and Nikola sighed before joining her. After cleaning up, they returned to the library for another session of giggling over ridiculous theories.

Before they knew it, it was dinner time and, without thinking, Helen extended the invitation for him to join her for dinner. She could see the apprehension in his eyes but was pleased when he accepted regardless. The meal started off uncomfortable but, sooner than she'd expected, they slipped back into the fast forming flow of their friendship. He made a quip about a certain unsightly professor and she laughed so hard she ended up snorting in a way that made her blush. Eventually their conversation flowed onto more personal topics. She listened intently as he spoke quietly of his family, sensing that if she were to speak, the spell that had him sharing his secrets with her would be broken. His voice dipped in a way that hurt her heart as he spoke of Dane, the brother he had admired and lost. With some gentle prodding, she spoke of her family too. Thankfully, her voice didn't break as she spoke of her long gone mother or the way in which her father resented her femineity on her behalf. She was glad when their conversation moved to more pleasant and less emotional discussion of the future, of the things they hoped to achieve, of his inventions and her discoveries. He had her complete attention as he spoke of his creations, the passion in his voice making him an enchanting sight. She didn't even notice when the table was cleared away, only recognizing what was going on when the old clock stuck twelve midnight.

The soft bells made them both jump and, as they faded off into silence, Helen turned to look at Nikola, eyes wide, cheeks aflame. How on earth could she have kept him at her house this long?

"I should go," Nikola said, making to stand.

"At this hour?" Helen she asked. Despite the impropriety of the idea of him staying, she couldn't think of sending him off at this hour.

"It isn't far to my accommodation," he said and she knew he was lying. She could see him steeling himself for what would undoubtedly be a long walk home

"Nikola, be reasonable. It's much too late for you to be wandering the streets alone. You can stay in one of the guest rooms," she said, hoping she sounded firm.

"Helen, I couldn't!" he exclaimed and she wondered if she was pushing the bounderies of this friendship past their limits. Then she remember why he was here and instantly felt guilty again.

"You can and you will. It's entirely my fault that you're here at all so giving you a bed is the least I can do," she said, reaching out to touch his arm lightly. She gazed into his clouded and closed eyes, flicking her gaze to his still swollen jaw. Something flickered in his eyes and she knew she'd won the battle. She smiled softly at him and he nodded in response. She relaxed, pleased he was granting her an opportunity to make up for his injury.

"I'm not sure if any of the rooms are made up so I'm afraid we might have to make do," she admitted sheepishly as they walked from the room. She picked up a candle as she went, using it to light her way through the now deserted house. They were silent as they climbed the stairs and Helen started to wonder what he was thinking about that kept him so silent. It took only a few minutes to come to a bedroom and she slowly pushed open the door. Seeing it was very nicely made up, she turned and gave him a smile.

"It seems I was wrong," she said, gesturing to the plush looking coverlet neatly tucked around the large bed sitting in the centre of the room. Her eyes flicked to the bed shirt lying on the end of the bed and she found herself wondering what he would look like, swamped by the excess fabric that would be translucent enough for her to see the outline of his slim body though. She pushed away the thought, knowing her scientific curiosity surrounding the male body was completely inappropriate.

"I'll get one of the maids to search through father's clothes in the morning to find you something to wear though I'm afraid it might be a little difficult," she promised eyeing his lithe body. Again shaking away the questions surrounding just what that lithe body would look like, she raised her eyes to his, only to see his brow creased in adorable confusion.

"You are positively tiny," she explained, unable to keep from smiling at him.

"I prefer to think of myself as sleek," Nikola joked, brushing imaginary lint from his arm. She chuckled at him and then there was an uncomfortable pause. Helen got the feeling they were both trying not to think about how inappropriate their actions were.

"My room's the third door down," Helen said tightly. Then she realised how that could sound and a blush swept over her cheeks.

"I meant, if you need anything in the morning," she said, trying to rectify the situation but only making it a thousand times worse. She could feel the heat in her cheeks rise but held her head high, refusing to let him see that she'd let her mind descend to such a level. As he smiled softly at her, Helen let out a sigh, pleased he wasn't going to pursue her salacious comment.

"Thank you for a wonderful day, Helen," he said seriously, holding her eye.

"I only wish it hadn't had to begin the way it did," she whispered back with a small smile. "I do wish you hadn't been hurt."

"Don't think about it," he said quickly. Then another silence descended over them.

"Night," she said, smiling softly at him.

"Good night," Nikola replied, taking her hand and brushing his lips against the back of it slowly. She prayed he didn't hear her breath hitch, hoping the draft was enough to cover up the inexplicable sound. He dropped his hand, giving her a smile that made her heart beat double time.

"I'll see you in the morning," Helen said, stepping backwards, her eyes wide. An idea suddenly popped into her mind and, although it was a very, very bad idea, she could help but step back towards him, this time close enough that she could feel his body heat. Rising up on her toes, she darted forwards, intending to plant her lips on his cheek but, as she went to do it, something in her made her move, meaning that her lips landed on the edge of his mouth. She froze, unsure of how to proceed, feeling the surprisingly hard muscle of his shoulder with the fingertips that had found purchase there. Then, jolting her out of her revere, his hand landed on her elbow as if to steady her. All at once her years of societal training kicked in, making her step back from him.

"Thank you, for today," she whispered, unable to keep from smiling at him. Her breathing was heavy and she wondered, not for the first time if he could understand whatever emotion it as that was coursing through her. She certainly couldn't that was for sure

Before she could do any more damage, she turned on her heel and raced down the corridor, making sure to shut the door firmly behind her. Letting out a breath she fell back against the door, eyes slipping closed as she bit her bottom lip.

What on earth had gotten into her?


	6. Making Eyes

**H** elen stepped out of the carriage and readjusted her skirts. The May night was pleasantly cool against the little of her skin that was exposed. Nodding to the young man who opened the door, she set her shoulders and readjusted her shawl before walking to the great oak doors before her. They were thrown open, inviting in the fresh spring air, letting the sounds of the party drift out. While it may not have been a party filled to the brim with scientific minds, she had been excited for it none the less.

As she stepped through the doors, the music picked up. She handed away her light travelling coat before taking a brief glance at the mirror in the hall. Her hair was sleek and pulled back, a few curls left loose to sit on her collar bone, the occasional shell pink silk flower tucked in to match her dress. Adjusting the lace on her shoulders, Helen turned away from the mirror, heading straight in into the heart of thriving party. In no time at all she was swept up by several young and excitable women, drawn off to the side to participate in what could only be described as the most mundane conversation ever.

Stifling a sigh, Helen rolled her eyes, pondering her lack of good luck. For the first time in memory, her father had permitted her to attend a party without him but she was stuck in the company of the most droll women she'd ever met. Pursing her lips, she nodded at her companion, eyes sweeping the room, seeking out the one man she'd come for.

* * *

Nikola had watched her since she came in wearing that pale pink dress that was more elaborate than anything he'd ever seen her in previously. In comparison to all the women swanning about in their jewel coloured gowns, she looked like a breath of fresh air, the softness of the colour and abundance of lace suiting her creamy skin perfectly. Her golden hair shone in the light of the room, her blue eyes standing out vividly against her pale ensemble. She held her lace fan loosely in one bare hand, occasionally using it to send a burst of fresh air across her rosy cheeks.

He'd debated approaching her as she walked in but, just as he'd begun to move towards her, she'd been swept up by a group of young ladies who tittered and giggled in a way that gave Nikola a headache without ever actually hearing them. She smiled politely at her companions but he could see the boredom dulling her lively eyes. The women around her were all shoved tightly into their bright, peacock-esque dresses in a way that showed off what Nikola could only assume was meant to be alluring cleavage but Helen was the epitome of class. Her dress wasn't prudish or out-dated but neither did she appear close to falling out of it. Granted, it was more revealing that what she normally wore to their classes but everything about her was poised and elegant.

Sipping his cheap and nasty champagne, Nikola mused over the fact that, regardless of what she wore, Helen always looked radiant. Whether it was the old crimson dress with the patch on the hem or that beautiful blue number she was in the night they met, it didn't matter, she was simply stunning. It was her eyes, he decided. Her eyes were quick and kind and full of a vitality that made him want to kiss her. In fact, the kind of vitality that stuck in his mind making him think about kissing her far too often. Her sweet, pink lips that delivered quips and compliments in quick succession were quickly becoming something of an obsession for him.

It had been a month since he'd spent that rather sleepless night down the hall from her and they had become more comfortable with each other since then. Something about sharing what could easily be construed as a very dirty secret had brought them closer together. Their friendship was now so close that it seemed, to Nikola at least, that they could communicate through looks alone. Just a few days ago she'd been cornered by a rather lecherous looking man as she made her way across the lawn to meet Nikola for lunch. Despite the pleasant smile she kept in place as she laughed at his jokes, with one look, Nikola knew he wanted her by his side. In a matter of moments he'd been making excuses for her and together they'd scampered across the lawn, giggling to themselves when they finally made it, out of breath, to the cover of the nearest building.

His attention was brought back to the present as he watched Helen roll her eyes at the young girls giggling behind their fans. He had to stifle a laugh at that. For all she thought she was unreadable, one look into those bright eyes would tell anyone that she was dissatisfied with her company. That and the fact that her eyes were scanning the room, hopefully looking for him, gave it away. A few weeks ago she'd mentioned offhandedly that she'd been invited to the party and he'd replied in an equally blasé manner that he was too. Her eyes had lit up at his admission and very quickly she'd convinced him to attend. Well, he didn't really need convincing but her pleas had made him smile. In fact, he'd gone all out, spending far too much money on a new suit to impress her. He still looked shabby in comparison to the men around him but then again, parading around with every item of value stuck to his person was never really his style anyway.

Suddenly, her eyes locked on his, a look of relief passing over her face and he couldn't help but feel smug. So she had been searching for him. She looked at him pleadingly, her head cocked to the side, lips twitching slightly, beckoning him to her side. In response, he lifted his glass, as if toasting her before taking a deep sip of the disgusting liquid. Her lips tensed, head twitched and, not that he would have been able to hear it, he thought a small tut of annoyance slipped through her lips. Judging by the sharp look the woman beside her gave her, he was fairly certain he was right. Instantly, the other girl followed Helen's gaze and, after letting out a titter that made the annoyance on Helen's pretty face even more evident, grabbed the arm of the girl on the other side of Helen, indicating that she too should take one look at Nikola before bursting into more giggles.

* * *

Helen rolled her eyes at them and Nikola actually laughed out loud. Her eyes narrowed accusingly at him and he grinned at her, ignoring the still sniggering women on either side of her. Both were whispering to Helen, trying to draw her attention back to them. Helen straightened her back and sent one last glare his way before turning to face one of the women. She said something to them, Nikola couldn't read her lips but, gathering by the way the other women then looked over at him appraisingly, he was fairly certain she was talking about him. Oh yeah, he thought as she sent another quick, imploring glance at him, definitely talking about him.

With a heavy, overly dramatic sigh, he put down his glass and began to slowly make his way through the crowd.

He was teasing her, she knew he was. She would have known it even if he wasn't grinning like a Cheshire cat. She'd often complained of women such as those who now surrounded her and he knew of her dislike for these situation but, even though he'd promised to keep her away from the 'birds' (as she like to call them), he was refusing to answer the plea she knew was in her eye.

"Who's that?" Abigail whispered excitedly, leaning over so that her rather disturbing cleavage was put on full display for Helen.

"Is he one of your Oxford boys?" Clara added on for good measure, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder. Helen rolled her eyes at that.

"His name is Nikola. And yes, he goes to Oxford," she said bitingly, straightening herself. Abigail's eyes immediately slid back to Nikola, drinking him in lustily. Helen bristled at the thought of Abigail being interested in him, there was just something about it that was very, very wrong. She thought about voicing that but knew immediately it would raise more questions than it answered. Abigail, although ditzy in a way that made Helen's head ache, was sharper than she let on. Helen knew better than anyone that the sweet and innocent façade she played couldn't be further from the truth, she was sharp as a tack when it came to men and matters of the flesh.

"Please at least try and be discreet Abby," Helen hissed, grabbing her 'friends' arm but to no avail.

Clara giggled and looked back at Helen. She could see the myriad of questions forming on her tongue, questions, Helen decided, that she most certainly didn't want to hear let alone answer. In a last ditch effort, Helen looked over at Nikola once more, ignoring the fact that he was still smirking at her, and gave him the look she had perfected on her father. It was a look filled with innocence, fear and a desperate plea for a knight in shining armour and it worked ever time.

And, it seemed tonight was no exception.

Slowly, Nikola put down his glass and meandered his way through the crowd. O.K, so his ability to resist her 'feminine wiles' was stronger than that of her father but still, she thought, it had potential. As she watched him watching her, she tuned out the giggles of the women next to her, instead focusing on the mirth dancing in his eyes. He was in a new suit, she realised with a start and it suited him perfectly. It was a little dated but the colour was crisp and the style suited him well, accentuating the long lines of his body. His hair was slicked back as per usual but parted differently, making him look like more of a gentleman. Despite the slight changes in his attire, Helen had recognized him the second their eyes had met and she wasn't ashamed to say that she'd felt immediate relief. As she'd scanned the party, unable to see him, fear had grown in her chest. The thought of enduring this night without the quick wit of her (maybe, if she was forced to admit it) best friend was beyond terrifying.

It was strange, Helen mused as she waited patiently for him to reach her, that she, who rarely made friends, outcast of societies far and wide had formed such an immediate attachment to a man she should have found to be lewd and unappealing. Normally, if people weren't perturbed enough by who her father was, the mere fact that she was female interested in studying, could send almost anyone into an uncomfortable coughing fit that ultimately ended with her being left alone. She knew that her father was very rarely invited anywhere by anyone because of his outlandish theories and, she suspected, his outlandish daughter.

But Nikola was not frightened by any of these things. He seemed to revel in the fact that they were so seldom bothered by their peers though Helen sometimes felt that this stemmed from the horrific bullying he'd mentioned briefly. Of course, he had brushed her queries off but there was something about him that spoke of enormous torment that she had never been subjected to. Whatever the reason, they clung to each other, recognizing that they were both united by the fact they were outcasts.

Realising he was now less than a few feet from her, Helen couldn't help the smile that spread over her face. As mad as she was at his goading, the relief his presence brought her was palpable.

"Miss Magnus," he said, sweeping into a deep bow, his eyes twinkling at her, the corner of his mouth twitching under that thick moustache she still hadn't got the chance to tell him looked ridiculous.

"Mr. Tesla," she cooed, fluttering her eyelashes at him, pleased when he seemed taken aback by her actions. Served him right, she thought. "Fancy seeing you here," she added on, making him look even more confused.

Abigail giggled and Clara elbowed her and Helen wasn't able to stifle a sigh.

"Mr. Tesla, may I introduce you to Miss Abigail Harrington and Miss Clara Bosworth," she said sweetly, hoping she covered her displeasure at their interruption of her game.

"Miss Harrington," Nikola said, kissing the back of Abigail's hand before doing the same to Clara. Helen could tell he was purposefully making his accent thicker, playing the mysterious foreigner Helen had been teasing him about not two days ago. Both the other women simpered, blushing furiously as he let his eyes rake over their overtly displayed bodies. He was playing the role of a rake so well Helen began to wonder if it was just playing. Perhaps he was interested in her friends. Or maybe just the flesh they displayed.

Her body involuntarily stiffened at the thought, the flirty smile that was lingering on her lips dropped in favour of a thin line. He seemed to pick up on her mood immediately, his eyes questioning her behaviour.

"Miss Magnus, if it isn't too presumptuous of me, I was wondering if you'd take a turn around the room with me. I've found this magnificent painting I'd love to show you," he said smoothly, turning his attention back to her.

"Of course," she said, taking the hand she offered.

"Miss Harrington, Miss Bosworth," he said cordially as Helen took his arm. Helen nodded at the two women, pleased that finally Nikola saved her from the tedium of their conversation.

Together they walked quickly across the room, weaving through the chattering couples, not stopping until they reached a clutch of suspiciously empty sofas in the corner.

* * *

As they made their way through the crowd, Nikola began to wonder what on earth had happened back there. One minute Helen was most definitely flirting with him and the next looked positively homicidal. Although he couldn't figure out what had happened to prompt the murderous rage that had been in her eye, the thought of her flirting with him was enough to make Nikola's blood pressure rise to dangerous levels. Now, after the fact, he was cursing himself for not reacting instantly to her dulcet tones but his brain truly was too befuddled to take in her abrupt change in tone. Honestly, when had he ever heard Helen Magnus, queen of proprietary, coo?

Either way, she released his arm, sitting down and flashing him a small, reserved smile.

"What happened to the painting?" she quipped as he sat opposite her and he made a face.

"What was I meant to say? Sorry girls but she's bored out of her mind and I'm here to play the knight in shining armour?" he joked and she rolled her eyes.

"Well, perhaps you could have picked a better excuse," she said with a mischievous smile. "After all, there is only one painting in this room and it is on rather prominent display," she said, gesturing to the large portrait that hung at the end of the room.

"Oh," he said, disappointed that his brilliant scheme hadn't been so brilliant after all. "Are you afraid I've ruined your reputation?" he asked, suddenly, wondering how much pushing would be required to make Helen flirt with him again.

"Please," she scoffed. "If I'd been worried about that, I would have pointed out your faux par long before you'd whisked me away."

"Or maybe you didn't realise that I'd made the mistake until I'd already whisked you away," he said suggestively and she laughed.

"Oh Nikola, some days you are too much," she exclaimed lightly and he smiled at her. The flirtatious side of her he'd encountered was hidden away again but the thought that it was there gave him new hope.

They fell quickly into conversation, remarking on the rather predictable turn the party was taking. Men had had too much to drink, young women had worn too little and things were getting more and more intimate despite the relatively early hour.

They'd just begun discussing their latest tedious class when, seemingly out of nowhere, James Watson and Nigel Griffin appeared at their side.

"Dr. Watson, Mr. Griffin," Helen exclaimed happily, turning from Nikola to look up at the two men. Nikola began to feel vaguely uncomfortable as introductions were made, clearly Helen knew these two men better than he did. Before he knew it, the two men had been invited to join them and were seated.

"Mr. Tesla," Dr. Watson said kindly. "I've heard you've been working on experiments with electricity." His tone was polite and, after a few moments of dubious searching, Nikola decided that there was nothing even remotely impertinent in his remark and promptly launched into an explanation of his latest work.

* * *

Helen sat back in her seat as she watched Nikola become more and more animated as he described his work to James. It was odd, she thought, that this man who could be such a recluse could become so excited in the blink of an eye. She let his words flow over her, having heard them many times before, and watched the party unfold.

She hadn't known that James or Nigel were coming this evening though, in retrospect, it now made a lot more sense that her father had let her attend without a chaperone. He trusted James implicitly and, as such, the good doctor had spent several evenings with both her and her father, discussing all manner of scientific theory. Helen often suspected that her father was trying to push her into a courtship with him but, just t he thought of being told what to do in such a manner made Helen certain she'd never view James as anything more than a friend. That and he was too much of a father figure for her to even contemplate that kind of a relationship with him. She was fairly certain that he too was not interested in her for her feminine charms. He respected her and was willing to listen to her opinion, something Helen found she valued above all else.

Nigel, on the other hand, she'd only run into a few times and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that her father did not trust him. If she was honest, Helen knew that he wasn't a man she could spend hours with alone but she enjoyed his company none the less. He was free with his words, willing to forget about all the rules society placed on interactions between men and women and be honest with her. She saw his eyes on her body and while it annoyed her, she was glad that he could keep his hands to himself.

Helen was pulled from her pondering suddenly as James shifted in the seat next to her, beckoning someone behind her to come and join their party. She turned to follow his gaze only to find her heart beating unsteadily as she took in the imposing figure of John Druitt.

"Miss Magnus," he said, bowing to her before greeting the others cordially, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," James said warmly. "Have a seat."

"Actually," John said with a warm smile for the other man, "I came to ask Miss Magnus if she'd honour me with a dance," he said, turning his eyes back to her. Helen felt her cheeks pinking as her breathing caught in her chest.

"Of course," she answered breathily, her voice unnaturally high. She cursed herself for her reaction, someone of such careful restraint such as herself shouldn't be so easily swayed by a well made suit and a dangerous smile.

"Ah, you thief John," Nigel pipped up. "Would you really deprive us all of that lady's delightful company?" he teased and Helen laughed.

"I'm sure you'll cope without me for one little dance," she joked, accepting the hand John held out to her.

"Well, just as long as you promise the next one to me," Nigel quipped, earning him another laugh.

"Naturally," she said with a smile as John led her to the dance floor.

* * *

Nikola was seething. That vulture of a man had swept in and, in less than sixty seconds had Helen blushing and giggling like those stupid women he'd already saved her from. And now she was on the dance floor, twirling in his arms. His only saving grace was the fact that it was a group dance, meaning that they were frequently carried away from each other but the smiles and laughs they shared in those moments they were together were enough to make Nikola feel sick to his stomach.

James and Nigel were still chattering away about their latest discovery (turns out they'd been working together for quite some time now and were very interested in getting his help too) but he couldn't focus on them, his eyes instead glued on the glimpses of twirling pale pink fabric he could see between the thick crowd.

After what seemed like an eternity, the pair returned, slightly flushed but grinning from ear to ear. All Nikola wanted to do was stand up, grab her and use his own lips to wipe the smile off her face. And, maybe run Druitt through with the decorative sword sitting on the nearby mantle. Her eyes locked on his momentarily and he could see her wondering at his suddenly dour mood but, before either of them could speak, Nigel stood up and claimed her hand, leading her off for another dance which she happily accepted.

This time, as he watched her dancing, less bile was rising in his throat. Nigel may look at her with more unbridled lust than Druitt did but he was kinder too, something in his eye made him trustworthy, even if his theories were out there to say the least. Druitt and James were talking quietly , occasionally asking Nikola for his input but he was mostly left alone which, considering how close he was to smacking that smug grin off Druitt's face, was probably a good thing.

When Helen and Nigel finally returned, each carrying a glass of wine, Nikola had been drawn into conversation with the others. James, it seemed was a master of observation and had taken it upon himself to ease Nikola's discomfort and, while he wasn't sure if the other man knew why he was so uncomfortable, Nikola felt a swell of affection for the man. James was far kinder than any other academics he'd met and, it seemed, genuinely interested in his scientific ideas.

Their conversation quickly swelled to include the new arrivals and in a matter of minutes they were having a lively debate on the merits of their education, openly bad mouthing the professors they all found tedious. Of course, James and Helen tried to make the others be a little more respectful but Nikola and Nigel quickly bonded over their quick tongues. The music of the dance floor was wafting over them and, it wasn't until Nikola noticed Helen's small foot tapping out a rhythm next to his, that he was missing a golden opportunity. Taking advantage of the lull in conversation, he stood, straightened his jacket and then turned to Helen, hoping the smile he had in place was a warm one.

* * *

"Care for a dance, Helen?" Nikola asked, looking down at her and she started. He was normally so reserved when they were in public and yet here he was, smirking down at her, hand extended, asking for a dance. A waltz, she realised, picking up the notes of the music. If it had been anyone else, she would have said no, the dance was far too scandalous and, considering that half of her acquaintances thought she was a woman of ill reputation, it wasn't a dance to be danced with someone one hardly knew. But this was Nikola.

"Of course," she said with a smile, ignoring the use of her Christian name and the way it made her body tingle. That's what happens when you have too many glasses of wine without having even a scrap of dinner, she thought, reprimanding herself for her foolish behaviour. His smile widened and she took his hand. Together they made their way over to the dance floor, weaving through the crowds, her hand still held tightly in his. Finally they made it and he swung her around and into his arms with surprising strength. She couldn't help the little yelp of surprise she felt at being so close to his body, strong arms holding her tightly. They were no closer than any of the other couples but something about the contact felt far more intimate than what Helen was used to.

* * *

_Years of training at the hands of strict maids came in and Helen's feet began to move without conscious thought as they swirled around the floor._

She felt so small in his arms, so light and she matched his rhythm perfectly, her body following his as he led her about.

_The music was swelling but they continued to move at a measured pace, not a slow dance but not quite fast either and certainly not fast enough to get her blood racing the way it was._

Their moves flowed with the music but with their eyes locked, both knew they were not dancing to the sounds of the band, instead the rhythm was pulsing through their bodies, making them move faster and faster but still in perfect time to the rest of the couples.

Her waist was small under his fingers but he could feel her breathing increase. Her eyes were shining as they moved, unconsciously getting closer and closer as they danced together.

_Her hand on his shoulder slid so that she could step closer, the heat of his body managing to make her already overheated skin flush. He was staring down at her with his unfathomable eyes and she shivered as they spun once more._

He could feel every delicious curve of her body pressed against his own and his arms tightened around her, bringing her impossibly closer as her tongue stole out to wet her pink lips, sending his heart into overdrive.

_Her hand felt clammy and so she held his tighter, pleased when his hand on her waist grasped her a little more firmly than strictly necessary._

Their bodies moved in harmony, each step perfectly timed so that their moves seemed to transcend choreographed dances and become something that was almost instinctual.

The blood in his ears was roaring, drowning out the music but it didn't matter because they were dancing to their own beat.

_She knew she was surrounded by other people but her entire vision was focused on one point. Everything else drained of colour, leaving his swirling blue eyes as the only light in her life._

Her breathing was heavy and he knew it matched his own. Their feet were close now, almost touching, hers moving between his and then his between hers. They were too close now but it wasn't enough for Nikola. He needed to hold her tighter.

_She wanted him to hold her tighter, close what was left of the distance between them and bring her to lay her head against his chest. She could smell him and, although she knew his scent by heart, something about this was different, more intoxicating, making it harder to breathe._

She moved with such grace that he felt his heart throb painfully. She was no featherweight but in his arms, she felt lighter than air as they spiralled around and around and around in a way that should have made him dizzy but her eyes kept him grounded.

The music picked up and all the other couples sped up but they all made the change seem unnatural. Only one couple made it look seamless, each move perfectly crafted to bring them to the ever so slightly faster tempo. Everyone was executing the same steps but the grace with which the moves were performed varied, once again seeming natural for some while clumsy for others.

_Her feet were still moving on the ground but suddenly she couldn't feel them, only the arms that held her._

Her body was leaning more and more against his, relying on him for support he was more than happy to give.

_Their faces were inches apart and she could feel his cool breath, swirling against her cheek._

Her eyes were glittering, locked on his with an intensity that he didn't dare try and break.

_Her entire body tensed, preparing for… something._

He could feel her preparing for something and, despite having no clue as to what it was, his body did the same.

_They were moving faster…_

Their moves were instinctive…

_Her body followed his…._

…as they moved closer together, the steps now…

… _superfluous to their dance…_

…that brought them impossibly…

… _closer to…_

… the high…

… _that…_

…they…

… _were…._

…so…

… _close…_

…to…

The music stopped, and, as if acting on instinct once more, they stepped away from each other, bowing and curtsying in kind.

Helen stumbled as she stood back from him, her body not quite under her own control yet. He reached for her, eyes filled with concern. She smiled shakily at him and accepted the arm he offered, clinging to it to stay upright.

"Are you alright?" he whispered and she could hear the alarm in his voice.

"It's just a bit stuffy in here," she whispered back, words sticking in her throat as she threw him a small smile.

"Do you want to get out of this room?" he asked urgently, eyes searching her face. Relief flooded through her body and she nodded.

He nodded once in response before leading her off the dance floor. They approached the table covered with glasses of wine but, instead of grabbing one for her, Helen was shocked when he instead grabbed a bottle before shepherding her out of the room.

"Where are we going?" she asked softly as he whisked her down the dark corridor. His arms were still around her, as if he was afraid she'd faint and, although nothing of the sort was about to happen (her knees were about to give out, that's all) his arms were warm and surprisingly strong and so she let him all but carry her down the hallway.

"I'm not sure," he admitted, slowing a little. "I only thought that you'd want to as far away from the party as possible if you were to… you know," he said uncomfortably.

"Thank you," she murmured and he turned to look at her in the dark, his face only partly illuminated by the slivers of moonlight in the corridor.

"My pleasure," he said softly with a small smile. They stood still for a moment, looking into each other's eyes before their reverie was broken by a loud squeal followed by a giggle, music floated down to them briefly but, as a door slammed shut, it was gone.

"I… Should," Nikola tried, swallowing before continuing. "Should we get back to the party?" he asked nervously and Helen could almost see the image in his mind's eye of her father coming after him with a loaded pistol.

"I'm sure they'll survive without us," she said, placing her hand on his arm. "And not only do you have the wonderful of bottle of wine for us to share but I'd like to take a moment to compose myself before facing the hordes again."

He smiled at her and nodded before turning to find somewhere they could retreat to. Seeing his confusion at where to go, Helen decided to take the lead, taking his arm and pulling him gently further down the corridor before coming to stop outside a small, very plain looking door. Gingerly she pushed open the door, peeking through before yanking Nikola in behind her. Together they stumbled into the large, moonlight room, Nikola almost flattening her as he landed pretty much on top of her. After a few more unsteady steps, Nikola caught her around the waist, pulling her back against him to stop their clumsy movements.

She twisted awkwardly in his embrace, giving him an apologetic smile. He chuckled in response before slowly letting her go.

"How did you know about this place?" he asked, walking around to the large window that dominated one wall of the room. The huge panes of glass opened out onto a small, private balcony that overlooked the grounds of the estate.

"This is Abigail's home," she said, shrugging her shoulders before taking a seat on the sofa nearest the windows. "She showed me this room a while ago, should I be in need of somewhere to conduct my 'amorous liaisons', as she so delicately put it," Helen continued, rolling her eyes. She thought she could hear his breath hitch and she smiled at the thought. Surely he knew that was not her intent.

"And while this may not comply with her intentions, I think it makes a delightful place in which to hide from sweaty, drunk crowds dancing in such close quarters," she finished, watching the tension in shoulders release as he turned back to her.

Looking at the bottle in his hand she raised an eyebrow.

"I don't suppose you brought glasses with you," she asked, not getting her hopes up. Right now a drink sounded wonderful. Her mind was still reeling from their dance, trying to process what each twist of their entwined bodies had meant. Not that she was having much luck with that, every time she thought she'd figured it out, something else came to light and she was once again confused.

"Unfortunately not," he said apologetically. "And I don't think we'd be likely to find any in this room," he added on, gesturing around the moonlit room. Helen followed his gaze and came to the same conclusion but, sadly it did not soothe her dry mouth.

"Nikola, if you will," she said, holding her hand out for the bottle.

Giving her a confused look, he complied as he came to sit beside her. With practised ease, she popped the cork before taking an uncouth slug of the cool liquid. Closing her eyes, she took a deep drink only to choke as it rushed down the wrong pipe. Coughing and spluttering, she doubled up, slamming the bottle down on the table in front of them with undue force as she tried to get her breathing under control.

Nikola shifted closer to her and she could feel his hand rubbing calming circles on her back. She looked up at him, tears clouding her vision, annoyed to see him looking so amused.

"What's so funny?" she croaked, sitting up straight.

"I just never imagined you drinking like that," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "It was very unladylike."

She shot him her best 'go and die' look before grabbing for the bottle again, this time taking a more delicate swig that didn't send her into another coughing fit. With a contented sigh, she put the bottle down once more only to have to snatch it back again as Nikola made a go for it.

"Do you really think it to be a hygienic practice to share a bottle of wine?" she queried, a smile playing on her lips.

"I was going to wipe it first," he grumbled, brandishing a handkerchief at her. "Why won't you share?" he added with a pout and she felt rather than allowed her giggle to slip out. Her several previous glasses of wine coupled with the darkened room and a pouting best friend as well as the bottle she was resting on her knee were clearly starting to have an effect on her. She saw Nikola roll his eyes at her but, before she could reprimand him for being so very rude, he darted forwards and snatched the bottle from her grasp. Her jaw fell open in shock and, with a cheeky grin, he wiped the mouth of the bottle before taking a deep swig, head thrown back.

Despite her annoyance, Helen found herself studying him. His eyes were closed and his lips pursed around the mouth of the bottle. A tiny drop of the dark wine was snaking its way from the corner of his mouth, contrasting nicely with his washed out skin. His face in profile was quite striking, she realised and, if it wasn't for that moustache, she would have thought him incredibly handsome. As it was, her inebriated state allowed her to over-look this minor detail. His Adam's apple was bobbing as he swallowed, his neck thrown back, making it look unnaturally long. His dark suit fitted him perfectly and, with all the contrasts of light and dark, Helen thought he'd look rather spectacular as a statue carved from marble.

As Nikola lowered the bottle, Helen realised that she'd been very openly ogling him and she suddenly found herself very thankful that his eyes had been closed and that it was dark enough for her blush to go unnoticed.

"See," Nikola said, goading her, "sharing isn't that hard."

With a little noise of indignation, Helen darted forward, grabbing for the bottle in the same way he had but he was too quick and they soon found themselves fighting for the bottle. They were both laughing hard as they dragged each other closer in their fight for dominance and it was only when some of the ruby liquid threatened to overflow and hit her skirt that Helen jumped back, relinquishing her grasp.

Nikola took one victorious gulp before smacking his lips and offering her the bottle which she accepted, along with the handkerchief he held out. She let out a breathless laugh as she wiped the mouth, letting the piece of cotton then fall to her lap. She could feel the heat of Nikola's leg, now pressed against hers but she was more preoccupied with the fact that, as she drank deeply from the now depleted bottle, she could faintly taste Nikola. It was strange and probably unclean but it was nice, adding to the flavour of the wine, making her feel comfortable.

Delicately she placed the bottle back on the table before settling down in her seat, propping her feet up on the table as she let out a sigh of contentment. Nikola followed suit, their bodies brushing occasionally as he stretched out next to her. They sat silently for a few minutes, feeling the buzz of alcohol in their veins before Nikola made a snide comment about Abigail and Clara that had her in fit of giggles and from there their conversation became sillier and sillier until Helen was having trouble breathing through her laughter.

As she quieted down, Helen found herself almost snuggling into Nikola's shoulder. They stayed silent for a few minutes and, if Helen hadn't been so drunk, she probably would have heard his breathing pick up but, as it was she wiggled until one of her hands could entwine with his. She let out a satisfied hum and let her eyes drift shut.

"Thank you for this evening Nikola," she murmured. "I don't know what I did to deserve a friend like you."

"Any time," he whispered back, squeezing her hand as he rested his cheek against the top of her head. Again silence overtook them as they relaxed into the small embrace they had established.

"Why are you so good to me?" Helen asked softly, sitting up slightly so that she could look him in the eye. Nikola shifted and used one finger of his free hand to raise her chin so that they were eye to eye, noses only centimetres apart. His finger was making her skin tingle and she could feel his breath once more on her face, reminding her of how it had felt when they danced. His eyes were shining in the moonlight and his alabaster skin looked almost translucent. Helen suddenly had the strongest urge to reach out and touch him but between the soft texture of his palm in hers and the way his eyes pinned her to the spot, she was helpless, staring into his eyes, waiting for him to speak.

"Because Helen," he said quietly, his voice strong and sturdy despite the alcohol, "I like you. A lot."


	7. Pigeon Chatter: Nikola

It had been a month since their dance at the ball and, while things weren't strained, there was certainly an uncomfortable tension surrounding their every word. Helen had dashed from the room as soon as she could and, before Nikola had been able to protest, she'd left the party without saying goodbye. He'd cursed himself for his foolishly loose tongue and, originally hoped that, with all the alcohol she'd consumed, the conversation would not stick out in her mind.

That hope, however was dashed when, not three days later they'd run into each other outside the lecture hall. Helen's face had flushed bright red and her greeting had been stilted. In that instant he'd realised that her brilliant mind had retained the details of his late night confession with just as much clarity as his had. He'd tried to brush it off, blame the alcohol but he knew that she knew he had more control of his faculties than that. He spoke only what he wanted to, just as she did. And that, he now decided, was the downfall of their friendship. He had feelings for her while she had none for him.

Groaning in frustration, Nikola let his head fall back against the sturdy tree he leant against. He wasn't entirely sure if she'd been avoiding him but, considering he'd just come from the biology class they shared at which she had not been present, his suspicions were close to being confirmed. Of course, he thought, breaking off a piece of bread to crumble for the birds at his feet, she could be sick but on several occasions she'd been feverish and still attended classes so that seemed highly unlikely.

Letting out a sigh, Nikola slid down the trunk of the tree, for once not caring about his suit. It was a fine summer day and one of the last for the term. The sun was high above the grounds, the emerald grass almost glittering alongside the shimmering pond. The same pond, Nikola mused, that they walked by that first time they went to have lunch. He was sure there was a comparison e could make between the seasons and their relationship but it seemed to clichéd to bother with. Absently he tossed more bread to the pigeons by his feet. Stretching out his legs, Nikola loosened his cravat and undid the buttons of his vest, trying to ward off the heat that was starting to make him sweat as he continued to mull over his general failings in relation to the stunning, heartbreaking, inspiring Helen Magnus.

Why couldn't she have laughed it off, he thought, staring the birds. Or even taken it to mean that he liked her in the way their friendship allowed, nothing more! Because she's too smart for that, his mind supplied. She was one of the most engaging and intelligent people he'd ever met, there was no way she'd ever make that kind of mistake. Even if he'd said nothing more than those simple words, he was almost certain that she'd have seen the real meaning in his eyes. Once again cursing his foolishness, he tore at the last of the bread in his hands, scattering it around him before leaning back closing his eyes.

He tried to focus on the soft coos of the pigeons, allowing the simple creatures to calm him but it didn't work nearly as effectively as it used to. Damn this woman! She was turning his entire world upside down, changing who he was and making him into an almost unrecognizable man. He had always been set in his ways, a creature of habit who could not be swayed by any means. Until he met Helen of course. Looking back over their few months together, he noticed just how much of himself had changed. He attended classes, for one and while he still didn't really pay attention, he now payed just enough attention to be able to criticise those who taught them, even if it was only so he could make Helen laugh with his witty commentary. In fact, he took great pleasure in making the ever restrained Miss Magnus giggle like a school girl in the middle of a lecture hall, something he'd only truly achieved on two separate occasions, almost getting them thrown out a few times more. He'd always been outspoken but this level of (dare he say it) insolence was something he hadn't really believed himself to be capable.

And then there was the fact that he now spent more time out of his tiny room than in it. Even with the few friends he'd made when he first arrived here, he'd never been particularly social, preferring his dark little study space to the bustling ale houses or boisterous parties that most men took as an opportunity to gloat about what few achievements they had. Other people had never before interested him but, with Helen by his side, he'd attended more parties than ever before. Not that either of them were social butterflies but now, when he did attend a party, with or without Helen, he recognized people, people who, unlike most who knew him, asked him to join their groups and partake in their conversations. Chief among these people was James Watson, a man Nikola had, despite his best efforts, begun to respect and admire. He was a good sort, willing to listen to Nikola's ideas and, on a few occasions had invited him to work on a project or two.

With a deep breath and a small smile, Nikola realised that, of all the things he could begrudge Helen (and there were very few), opening him up to new experiences and new people probably wasn't one of them.

Then, as if to draw him out of his melancholy thoughts, a small feathered body brushed against his fingertips where they lay by his side.

"You are very hungry today, aren't you?" he remarked kindly with a small smile. The pigeon cooed softly before taking a few jaunty steps back, cocking its head expectantly. He chuckled at his little friend before reaching into pocket a slowly drawing out the paper bag he'd used to carry his stale bread. For as long as he'd been at Oxford he'd always spent these afternoons feeding the pigeons. It was something of his guilty pleasure for not even Helen was aware of it. Every Monday after biology and lunch with Helen, he'd walk her to her chemistry class before coming back to sit under this tree and feed his little friends. Scattering the crumbs by his side, Nikola smiled indulgently at the birds who hopped around enthusiastically, pecking up the bread quickly.

"I don't suppose you've got any ideas," he asked them softly, not really expecting a response but then, as if trying to help him with his problems, the smallest white pigeons looked up at him, waddling closer before cooing and pecking at his fingertips before darting back a little.

"Go for it, you say?" he said with a chuckle and the pigeon cocked its head once more before returning its attention to the food. "Unfortunately, my little friend, I think I may have destroyed whatever chance I may have had with her," he lamented with a sigh. One of the birds cooed somewhat indignantly and he laughed. "While I may have nothing to lose, I fear I may also have nothing to gain except a broken heart."

"Are you talking to them Nikola?"

Her voice was soft and sweet, tinged with humour and, as he turned to look up at her shadowed face, Nikola felt his heart stop and then beat double time.

"Helen," he choked out, making to push off the ground. She smiled at him and, with a quick glance around, sat down beside him, her skirts landing on his thigh as she shuffled closer to him and away from the sun. She smiled again for a moment before silence fell over them again and her face fell, breath catching in her throat. He tried to smile at her but, considering how uncomfortable she looked, he was fairly sure it failed spectacularly. Like all my other ingenious plans, he thought acidy as he turned his attention back to the birds who had skipped a little further away than before.

He reached into the bag again and pulled out a handful of crumbs to scatter before, unthinkingly handing Helen the bag. And there I go again, he chastised. If anyone else had come to sit next to him during what was for him, a very personal moment, he'd have stood up and walked away, not invited them to join him like it was the most natural thing in the world. And it really did feel that way. Having her beside him as the fed the pigeons made sense in a way he couldn't describe. Despite the tension they'd felt over the past few weeks, a calm had fallen over them. The sun was beating down upon them but, even though a good deal of his legs were covered by her thick skirts, he didn't mind in the slightest. It too felt right. But then, when slid closer and rested her head on his shoulder, nothing else in the world mattered. They were in plain sight and it was ridiculously improper but, as he slid his hand into hers, he smiled, scattering more bread for the birds that were finally moving closer to him again. Minutes, maybe hours passed before he finally figured he ought to speak.

"I missed you today in class," he said softly and she hummed softly.

"I know, I'm sorry," she replied, pulling away. She rolled her shoulders and shifted so that her legs were lying straight out, next to his. She squirmed a little, struggling with her skirts but after rucking them up a little, she settled, leaning back into his side. Nikola looked down at their legs, heart stopping as he noticed the slim little ankles that were now on display. The grounds were all but deserted and they were quite a distance from the main path but never before had she done something that could very well be considered scandalous with a man who was not her father or her betrothed. But, he didn't care, not one tiny bit. It seemed to Nikola that heat was just as effective as alcohol in getting Helen Magnus to relax ever so slightly and that piece of information was most definitely being filed away for future reference.

"It's awfully hot today," she commented, shifting a tiny bit closer to him, hand slipping from her skirts to brush her little finger against the back of his hand. Taking the hint, Nikola shifted his hand to take hers, closing his fingers around hers gently without thinking about the consequences.

"It is," he agreed, taking in a lungful of that heady scent she always carried with her.

"So why are you out here? Surely there are cooler places for you to sit."

"I wanted to feed the pigeons," he said with a shrug and she giggled. "What?" he asked, brow furrowing as he stiffened ever so slightly. He may love Helen but that didn't mean he needed to put up with her disparaging him.

"I didn't mean it like that," she said softly, looking up at him with guilty eyes. "It's just that most people think of pigeons to be dirty, flying rats and with you adoration for hygiene, you don't seem like a sensible match." She tried to pull away from him but, understanding her words, Nikola reached out and pulled her closer than before. Sure he was sweating and uncomfortable but Helen looked so genuinely guilty that he couldn't think of anything else to do.

"I like them," he said as she settled against him once more. "They're nicer than people."

"Nicer than me?" she asked, pulling back to look him in the eye, smile playing on her lips.

He pretended to think about it for a moment.

"Sometimes," he allowed, nodding with a finger on his chin and she let out an offended scoff.

"Cheeky," she chastised, nudging him with her shoulder. He chuckled indulgently and he could sense the contented smile on her face. They sat in silence for another few moments, Nikola feeding the pigeons, Helen watching serenely. It was warm and comfortable and something about the whole scenario felt right but there was still that underlying tension that had plagued their friendship for this past month.

"About the other night..." he began, instantly regretting the words. Helen stiffened at his side and pulled away only this time, he didn't stop her. Twisting on her knees, she moved to kneel next to him, staring into his eyes with unfathomable intensity. Her face was blank, whether it was from shock or just a carefully schooled look, he wasn't sure but he swallowed reflexively before sitting up a little straighter. He worked hard to keep his eyes trained on her face on not take a peek at the cleavage mad visible by the way she was leaning towards him ever so slightly.

There was a pause as they both silently urged the other to speak but, eventually Nikola could take the silence no longer, all the possible apologise he'd come up with spewing forth in a babbled and incoherent mess.

"Helen, I am so unbelievably sorry. I didn't mean to say such a stupid thing, it must have been the wine or something because I do like you, I truly do but I like you because you are intelligent and kind and a good friend to me and I promise it has nothing to do with just how very beautiful you are. Which you are, beautiful that is, more beautiful than all the women I've ever met put together but you are beautiful inside and out. You are one of the smartest people I've ever met and-."

She held a finger up to his lips, blushing furiously and he had to fight the urge to press a kiss to the warm digit against his lips. After a moment, she removed her hand and, shaking slightly, returned it to her lap. He knew he ought to feel ashamed of his outburst but, while fear was still making his ears buzz, a sense of relief washed over him. He's said his piece, he'd been honest with her and, while she may not have been able to make out every word, she'd listened to him.

Her eyes were down cast, trained on where her fingers were playing with her the fabric of her skirt but he couldn't stop watching her. They sat that way for a few minutes, letting the cool breeze waft over them until finally she twisted around and fell back into her previous position curled up against his side. He wanted her to say something, anything, to tell him that she was alright with him being a bit of a crazy person but, as his heart beat slowed to a more reasonable pace, she remained silent. Cautiously, her hand snaked down between them, finger entwining with his as she shifted even closer than before.

"Nikola?" she asked softly, not looking up from their joined hands.

"Yes?"

"I like you too."


	8. Pigeon Chatter: Helen

Biting her lip, Helen fell into the seat of the carriage in what she could only think to describe as a feminine quandary. Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on how you look at it, she mused thoughtfully) this was the very first time she'd been victim to such a quandary and as such, she had no idea how to deal with it. There were too many options yet not nearly enough to satisfy her needs. It had been a month, an entire month since she'd flushed red at innocent words and all but sprinted from the room, the alcohol that had given her bravery enough to sit and flirt with a man in a darkened room abandoning her at exactly the wrong moment.

Perhaps she could have been more tactful in her retreat but, as she stared into Nikola's alcohol clouded eyes (she refused to think it could be anything else that darkened the blue eyes she knew so well), she'd experienced such a flurry of foreign emotions that her first instinct had been to flee. She'd been very careful not to look into his eyes as she left the room. She wasn't sure what she'd have found if she had but she knew it wouldn't be good.

But what else could she have done? She'd known instinctively that she was in no fit state to calmly ask him to explain his statement. In fact, it had only been dumb luck that she'd managed to pry herself away from his long, delicate fingers when all she'd wanted to do was lean forward and find out if he tasted of wine as she suspected he would. Forever would she be thankful for the tiny burst of fresh air that had moved between them, giving her a chance to actually realise what was going on.

And then she'd run and, for a few days, worked hard to avoid him which wasn't actually that difficult. They had only a handful of classes together and none of their usual meet ups were set in stone. She'd felt guilty sure but embarrassment always won out when she weighed up the pros and cons of taking a stroll with him around the little lake that had started this little friendship of theirs. Or those of meeting him in the furthermost corner of the library where they could pour over old books, Nikola pointing out every flaw he could find as Helen tried not to laugh at his incorrigibility. Her favourite moments were when she managed to pick apart one of his own arguments. It didn't happen nearly as often as she'd like but, with practice, it was becoming more and more frequent. The look on his face when he finally realised she had him beat was priceless and made her laugh harder than any of his snarky quips about professors ever could.

Helen smiled faintly at the fond memories before a nasty jolt of the carriage snapped her back to reality. Right. Reality. The fact that, when they had finally come face to face, she'd blushed to the roots of her hair. She'd seen him across the room, having arrived much too early in an attempt to hide up the back. And, for the most part, she'd succeeded. Her seat had been in the deepest, darkest corner of the hall, hiding behind a dour hairdo and what could only be described as a depressingly drab dress of olive green. She'd kept her head down for the 20 minutes before he'd come in and, once he stopped looking around for her and took a seat, she proceeded to spend the entire time staring at the back of his head, noting the way his shoulders were slumped, hands lying listlessly in his lap. He'd looked so dejected, something she'd never before seen in this overly confident man. Even when his theories were being shot to pieces, he never really lost hope.

She'd been so engrossed in her study of his new and unexpected (though it really shouldn't have been) mood that it wasn't until the room was partially empty and her view of him disturbed that she realised that the full two hours had passed and she had nothing more on her paper than a few random swirls of ink. One of which, oh god, seemed, if she squinted and held her head just right, to be a... a... heart. Mortified at her absentminded doodling she'd grabbed up all her papers and sprinted for the door with every intention of head back home, stealing a few nips of the strong alcohol her father kept 'hidden' from her and heading to bed. Sure there was the chance she'd end up dreaming of Nikola and her terrible retreat but anything was better than contemplating the fact that she may be losing her mind at the hand of her closest friend.

And, of course, just as she'd come barrelling out of the room, Nikola had stepped into her path and she could do nothing except gape. He'd blushed and she was sure she'd blushed and neither had said a word. For some odd reason, instead of fearing that he'd run away, she began to regret her decision to wear her most drab of dresses. Sure Nikola never openly ogled her body as other men did but that didn't mean she had to dress like the spinster everyone thought her to be. Which was stupid because it was just  _Nikola_. Eventually he'd cleared his throat and made a nice attempt at covering up the awkwardness. Drawing on her years covering her true emotions, Helen had played along, accepting the arm he held out to her and the offer to walk her to her carriage. After a few stumbles here and there they'd managed an amiable conversation and he'd even coaxed a laugh from her.

From there things had sort of got back to normal but their time together had always been hindered by the night of which they both refused to speak. Conversations sometimes grew stilted and she was still fighting the urge to blush during the guilt ridden silences that overcame them.

Looking out the small window of the carriage Helen tried her hardest to push down the simmering fear in her gut. This decision had been so much easier to make in the cool parlour of her home but now, sitting in the stuffy carriage things became muddled again. She'd talked herself in and out of going to see him a thousand times and that was only in the past few hours.

He likes you as a friend, one side of her argued. He respects you and appreciates your intelligence.

He adores you, the other purred. He wants you in a way that is unseemly and you like it.

And the worst thing was both ideas frightened her. The idea that he cared for as nothing more than a close friend sent a sharp pang of... of... something straight to her gut, twisting it painfully until she began to feel embarrassed and that familiar warmth began to flood her cheeks. But that was nothing in comparison to the emotions the other option evoked within her. Those emotions were just as unidentifiable and caused similar hot streaks to shoot through her body but she sensed the flush it aroused in her cheeks had nothing to do with bitter disappointment.

Both scenarios were intimidating but the bigger question was what to do. Should she dash to his side and beg forgiveness or should she pretend like nothing had happened? The proper lady in her was rooting for the latter but the young woman who adored the company of this odd Serb urged her towards the former. She'd been wrestling with the two versions of herself for the past week and, this morning in a fit of anger at herself for being so bloody indecisive, she'd decided upon the more dangerous yet more alluring of the two options.

Which was she was here.

A sharp rap from above once again drew Helen's attention from her fretful musings. She was here. It was time. She knew without having to think about it that Nikola would be sitting under the largest, shadiest tree along the shore line with a small bag of stale bread to scatter amongst the pigeons.

As the door opened and she stepped out into the unseasonably warm day she sighed. She couldn't exactly run now, could she? Oh, but wait, her feet were moving and she was walking without having consented to do so.

It wasn't until she was skirting around the edge of the small lake that she regained control of her limbs. Coming to a dead stop, Helen looked around, heart in her throat. As her eyes continued to scan, she felt herself beginning to get more and more panicked. He wasn't here. He wasn't sitting by the tree, feeding his birds. He wasn't here. Spinning on her heel, Helen began to sweat but whether it was the ridiculously warm sun or the pit of dread she wasn't sure.

What if he'd run away? What if he'd seen her approach and hidden? What if he hadn't come today because he didn't want to see her? What if he was sick of her painfully feminine idiocy and wanted nothing more to do with her? Helen bit her lip, trying to stem the thoughts she knew were silly but still stung none the less.

What had she done? Why had she left it so late? Why hadn't she just gone to class this morning and spoken to him then? Silently berating herself, Helen turned to walk back to the carriage only to spot three grey pigeons hopping under the swaying leaves of the nearest tree.

It couldn't be, could it?

Slowly she started to walk forwards, holding her skirts so that they made less noise.

"Vi ste veoma gladni danas, zar ne?"

She may not have spoken Serbian but not only did she recognize it as such, she recognized Nikola's voice. But then a terrible thought came to her. Who was he speaking to?

"Pretpostavljam da nemate neku ideju."

No, that was still him. Perhaps he was talking to himself. She heard him chuckle indulgently and couldn't help but smile at the sound. From where she stood her view of him was hindered by the leaves but she could just make out the lines of his crisp grey suit and she smiled even wider. She knew he was not wealthy and she'd have to be blind not to recognise the fact that he owned very few suits but the one he was wearing today was her favourite. The softer colour made his eyes look even more blue and took away from the harshness of his hair style. He wasn't nearly as brash and brazen as he pretended. He was, after all, a man who fed pigeons.

"Samo napred , vi kažete?" he chuckled.

She could just make out the soft coos of the pigeons, as if they were responding to him and she almost chuckled along with him.

"Nažalost, moj mali prijatelju, mislim da sam možda uništio sve šanse sam možda imao sa njom."

He sighed heavily on the last word and Helen began to suspect he was talking about her and her unseemly behaviour. She heard another of the birds coo and he laughed warmly, chasing away her fears.

"Iako možda nemam ništa da izgubim , bojim se i ja mogu imati ništa da dobije , osimslomljenog srca."

The foreign words sounded so exotic coming from him and, finally Helen could take it no longer. She was calmer than she had been in a long while and, without a second thought she stepped through the curtain of leaves and into the shade.

"Are you talking to them Nikola?" she asked, unable to keep the note of laughter from her voice. He stared up at her with the most disbelieving of expressions and all she wanted to do was hug him. He looked so painfully naïve and startled and it warmed her heart.

"Helen," he choked out as he started to push off the ground. With a new sense of calm coming over her she smiled before signalling that he should remain seated. Quickly she glanced around and, once certain that they wouldn't be seen, moved to sit next to him. In truth it was probably too hot to sit as close to him as she did but she couldn't think of any other way in which to show him how sorry she was. She shuffled a little closer and smiled at him again only to feel that familiar heat flush her face as she saw something in his eye. The emotion, whatever it was, made her feel all tingly and at once she dropped the eye contact. She saw him try to smile but it faltered and, after a beat he turned back to the birds. He took a handful of crumbs from the bag before wordlessly handing it to her.

They sat in silence for a few moments as they fed the birds and Helen was overcome with a sense of inner calm. Something about this simple action was comforting and reminded her why she adored Nikola so much. Things with him were easy. They flirted a little, they argued a little but, at the end of the day, he was the one person she suspected she'd always be able to turn to. Plus, very few men would consent to sit by her side on a sweltering day like this, her thick skirts tossed over his legs.

Acting on an instinct she never knew she possessed, Helen sidled closer to him, gently resting her head on his shoulder and right then she didn't care if it was a hundred degrees, nothing could feel better than this. Then he slid his hand into hers and proved her wrong.

"I missed you today in class," he said softly after a moment and she hummed in reply. She knew they'd have to discuss it sooner or later but right now she didn't want to ruin their afternoon.

"I know, I'm sorry," she said softly, shifting so she could look at him properly. She stretched her shoulders, buying herself a little time before straightening out her legs so that, through the many layers of her skirts, she could just about feel his legs. She struggled with her skirts for a moment and, after pulling them up just a little, was pleased with the cool breeze that tickled her thinly stockinged ankles.

"It's awfully hot today," she commented blandly before shuffling a little closer. Her fingers ached to be entwined with his but she didn't dare be so bold, instead settling for brushing just a single finger against the warm skin of his hand. She almost sighed with pleasure when he took her hand gently.

"It is," he agreed just as blandly before taking in a deep breath. Or was that... Did he just sniff her? If she was being honest with herself though, she actually didn't care that much.

"So why are you out here? Surely there are cooler places for you to sit."

"I wanted to feed the pigeons," he said with a shrug and she giggled. "What?" he asked, brow furrowing . She could sense that he thought she was making fun of him and instantly regretted her inability to restrain her laughter.

"I didn't mean it like that," she said softly, regret playing havoc with her heart. "It's just that most people think of pigeons to be dirty, flying rats and with you adoration for hygiene, you don't seem like a sensible match." Wondering if it'd be best if she left, she made to pull away from him, genuinely surprised when Nikola pulled her back to his side closer than before. She could smell his sweat and he could probably smell hers but the certainty with which he was holding her hand stopped her from caring. Plus, he smelt kind of good.

"I like them," he said as she settled in next to him. "They're nicer than people."

"Nicer than me?" she asked, pulling back to look him in the eye, smile playing on her lips.

He looked momentarily thoughtful and that terrible tension that had taken up residence in her heart melted away once more.

"Sometimes," he allowed, nodding. Playing along with his game she scoffed at him.

"Cheeky," she chastised, nudging him with her shoulder. He laughed softly at her and they both settled back into the semi embrace smiling lightly.

He continued to feed the pigeons for a few moments and, as she watched, Helen felt herself being lulled into a deliciously warm sense of security. Nothing could touch them here, they were together and happy and the rest of the world didn't exist.

"About the other night..." he began, almost out of the blue. She stiffened against him before pulling away, slightly disappointed when he let her. This would be so much easier if she didn't have to look into his eyes. She watched as he gulped, eyes swimming with fear. She saw his eyes dart down to her accidentally exposed cleavage but, to his credit, it only happened once. Perhaps leaning towards him as she was wasn't the smartest move. Though perhaps if she could distract him...

"Helen, I am so unbelievably sorry. I didn't mean to say such a stupid thing, it must have been the wine or something because I do like you, I truly do but I like you because you are intelligent and kind and a good friend to me and I promise it has nothing to do with just how very beautiful you are. Which you are, beautiful that is, more beautiful than all the women I've ever met put together but you are beautiful inside and out. You are one of the smartest people I've ever met and-."

His words were too sweet, too sincere and though she couldn't quite make out everything he was saying, she had to stop him before she started to join him in his babbled apology. Holding up a finger to his lips, she was astounded by the softness of them and wondered how they'd feel under her own lips. Shaking away the silly thought, Helen worked hard to return her trembling hand to her lap.

She cast her eyes downwards, focusing on the soft fabric of her skirt. She could feel his eyes on her as they sat silently for a few minutes, the cool breeze helping to stifle the red blush of her cheeks. Finally, when she was unable to not think about him anymore, she twisted until she fell lightly against his side, this time curling into him slightly. She could hear the outrageously fast beating of his heart and, as her hand moved down to clasp his, she decided that it didn't matter what 'like' meant exactly. Shuffling just that tiny bit closer to him she couldn't help the tiny smile that sprang to her lips.

"Nikola?" she asked softly, watching the way their fingers fitted together so prettily.

"Yes?"

"I like you too."


	9. Shakespearean Goodbyes

"Oh Helen!" Nikola exclaimed, throwing his arms wide and falling back onto the picnic mat with dramatic flair. "Goddess, nymph, perfect, divine!" Turning his head to the side, Nikola gave her his biggest smile and, while she wanted to wipe the grin from his face, she couldn't help but smile at his actions

"O spite!" she threw back, reaching out to hit at his shoulder in retaliation. "O hell! I see you all are bent to set against me for your merriment."

"Hey!" he exclaimed, rolling and squirming away from her but she wasn't so easily deterred, following him as far as she could.

"Serves you right," she replied happily, moving back just before she lost her balance and landed face first in his lap. "You were ruining the picnic."

"I was quoting Shakespeare," he said dryly, rolling his eyes as he sat up once more.

"My point exactly."

"You said you  _like_  Shakespeare," he complained, reaching forward to snag a few cherries from the bowl between them.

"I also said I hated that play," she said, trying to sound firm but unable to stop smiling.

Shaking his head at her foolishness, Nikola leant back on his elbow, twirling a cherry in his free hand and she smiled softly, gazing up at the clear blue sky. The semester was almost over and, while she was excited for her trip with Gregory, after the wonderful day she'd had, she didn't want to go without Nikola. Since their little reconciliation not too long ago they'd been nearly inseparable. Thankfully her father was away a lot, meaning they had almost free reign over the house. And, as if their new found closeness wasn't enough, it seemed something else in their relationship had shifted slightly. Nikola now as more attentive than ever, always finding little ways to touch her when they were in private. Nothing overt or intimidating, just the occasional brush of skin on skin but it was enough to make her feel decidedly warm and gooey inside. In the library they would always sit closer than strictly proper and now he had no qualms about batting away her hands if she tried to draw his attention to something he deemed unimportant, once even pinning her to the seat until she promised to stop interrupting him. Of course, it had been hard to do as such through her laughter but the wide grin on his face made it worth it.

And today had started off much on the same foot. She'd been finishing her papers, brushing away his wandering fingers as they tried to point out what he perceived to be flaws in her work. They'd been shushed by librarians and frowned at by fellow academics and giggled like school children in a way that she found embarrassing and exhilarating at the same time. Nikola made her feel young and silly and just about everything she wasn't but he also had a knack for making her feel miles more intelligent than she suspected she actually was. Except, of course when he was peering over her shoulder, asking whether or not she'd hit her head on the way here because her assumptions were just that wrong.

If it had been anybody else, she would have slapped him long ago but there was always a humorous undercurrent to his steady stream of comments and today had been no exception. Even when she'd finished her papers, he'd still been arguing that they simply had to take her to see a doctor. As he'd taken her arm and led her out to the sunshine, she'd suggested slyly that he take her to see her father, if he was so worried for her health. That had shut him up rather quickly, much to her pleasure. It seemed that, even though they'd only met once, Nikola had developed more than a healthy fear of her father, something she was yet to understand.

Of course, he'd recovered quickly, dragging her not towards their favourite walking paths but off towards a carriage he'd obviously borrowed for the day. Briefly the thought that cavorting through Oxford in a carriage without an escort was a terrible idea shot through her mind but the excitement in Nikola's eyes had been infectious. For all he played the strong, silent and reserved scientist, deep down he was an eager puppy. She loved that about him and, regardless of how improper it might be, she couldn't very well dampen his spirits when he'd obviously put such effort into planning the day. No wonder he'd tried to hurry her through her work, she thought with an internal smile.

Carefully he'd helped her into the carriage, dodging her questions as to where they were going easily. When she'd threatened to scream out the window (obviously in jest) he'd paled and her heart had melted. Taking pity on the endearing young man, she'd smiled and told him he was true of heart and couldn't harm her even if he wanted to so there was no need to blush quite so furiously. After a few moments he'd relaxed and, smirk in place, asked just why she was so certain that he wouldn't try to harm her reputation. Had such silly remarks not been common place between the two of them, she'd probably have been offended but, as it was, she'd decided to take the more serious route. Nikola meant a lot to her and she'd recently realised that not once since their reconciliation had she voiced as such.

He'd looked genuinely taken aback when she'd told him that, being her Nikola, he couldn't hurt her. The hand that cupped his cheek had gotten their mostly of its own accord but she was very glad it had. Then she realised what she'd said and what she was doing and, thankfully had the good sense to blush as she removed her hand from his cheek. She hadn't expected him to move to sit beside her but his presence was comforting and welcomed, regardless of the unnecessary excess body heat.

She'd felt his hand trembling as he took hers and, if she hadn't already thought he was one of the sweetest men she'd ever met, that probably would have convinced her. They remained silent for a few minutes and she'd watched the buildings of Oxford give way to lush country side. It hadn't taken long for curiosity to get the better of her, prompting her to guess at the few counties around that she was familiar with. Then they'd taken a turn she'd been mightily familiar with and it had been immediately apparent where they were headed.

"Sandford!" she'd exclaimed confidently, tugging on his hand until he followed her movements and leant towards the window.

"You take all the fun out of surprises," he'd groused but she could tell he was as excited as she was. Unable to think of any proper reply, she'd simply turned around to smile at him broadly.

And then she realised something she'd never really noticed before. He was a man. A young man. A man. A  _man_. Suddenly thousands of unbidden thoughts rushed to her mind. Remnants of overheard conversations floated through her mind and the most peculiar urge came over her. She wanted to kiss him.

It wasn't as if she'd never kissed before but not since she was an impetuous six year old had she ever instigated a kiss. Men had kissed her and once or twice such a gesture had been almost invited but she'd never sought this kind of... this kind of... responsibility wasn't the right word but that was how she felt.

It was purely for scientific reasons, she decided. She wanted to know if all she'd been told was true. Would her insides turn to jelly? Would her body feel like it was on fire? Would he taste of the tea they'd had earlier? And, most importantly, would he kiss her back?

Many times she'd overheard the maids discussing 'matters of the flesh' as they liked to call it and Helen couldn't deny that she was slightly curious. Naturally, kissing would elicit the same response in her as skin on skin contact was supposed to do but would it live up to the hype of giggling maids and stern cooks? Once or twice she'd felt like the spinster peoples used to call her, being just a few years shy of thirty but not even close to married. She couldn't participate in the conversations of her friends when they spoke of their suitors, she couldn't even pretend to fathom what the blush in young Brigette's cheeks had meant when another of the maids had mentioned spending the afternoon going for a ride. She was inexperience and, while experience was desirable, Helen had, to this day, avoided the concept of romantic liaisons like the plague. It was messy and dangerous, not only to her name and standing within society but also to her heart. She'd heard the broken sobs of young women who'd given their heart to men who felt nothing in return and she had no interest in being within their numbers.

But this was Nikola. A man yes, but he was still Nikola. Her closest friend, the one person she knew she could trust regardless of any impropriety her actions could construe. He was Nikola. He was attractive and strong and her friend. Of all the men she knew, he was most definitely the only with whom she could try anything as bold as the experiment she had in mind.

Plus, after all the effort he'd clearly put in to this day out, a kiss would be a pleasant way to say thank you. He wouldn't say no? Would he?

Then she looked into his eyes and had her answer.

Next thing she knew, her lips were pressed against his and the contact, albeit brief, was intoxicating. His lips were soft under hers but she felt her heart drop a fraction when he didn't respond in the manner she'd expected. Trying to maintain even a modicum of modesty, Helen pulled back, lowering her gaze as she tried to wish away her actions.

His hand withdrew from her own and Helen wanted to hit her head against a wall. How could she have been so foolish, acting like a strumpet in the presence of the one man who had defended her on many occasions?

She hadn't expected the finger the touched her chin, tilting her face until Nikola was able to move in and kiss her in response. Her heart began to beat double time but she was frozen under the sweet caress of his lips against hers. This time, they both lingered for a few moments longer than before but, soon enough, he pulled away, leaving Helen more than a little shell shocked.

Acting on an instinct she never knew she had, she had leant forwards again to kiss him once more, this time with considerably more force than the chaste brushes of lips that had preceded it. His hand moved to cup her cheek and she could feel the restraint in his kiss. A little bewildered she toyed with the idea of pulling back but the way her whole body was tingling meant that that was not an option.

And then his tongue stole out and brushed against her bottom lip and she couldn't help the gasp that escaped. Nor could she help the fact that her hands immediately jumped to the open sides of his suit jacket, grabbing the material, lest he try to get away. As he seized the opportunity her open mouth presented, nothing but joy flooded her soul. Never before had she been kissed in such a manner and, while she'd heard about the pleasure of this particular style of kissing, she'd always brushed it off, thinking very little of such an idea. But now, oh God, he was  _kissing_  her and it felt good. He was discovering her mouth tentatively, searching out sensitive spots and it was all Helen could do to moan into his mouth. His hands very quickly made their way to her waist and, even though the stiff fabric, the heat of his large and elegant hands was intoxicating. Without any conscious decision her tongue began to move against his and then it was his turn to groan.

It felt good, too good considering how wrong she knew this kind of behaviour to be. She knew she should stop but she couldn't, she wouldn't. She'd been curious about what this kind of intimacy could entail and she was honestly surprised at the level of pleasure she was experiencing. They were doing nothing more than kissing, her hands holding tight to his lapels, his wrapped securely around her waist and yet, despite feeling utterly wanton, a strange warmth was settling over Helen, making her feel complete yet not anywhere near complete enough. Storing away such thoughts for later, Helen drew her mind back to the task at hand; exploring Nikola's unique taste the way he'd been exploring hers.

Wanting to feel more of him, Helen ran her hands into his hair, messing up the perfectly slicked locks in a way that would have made her proud had she not been so thoroughly preoccupied. As it was, she could tear her mind away from the fact that it was Nikola against her, holding her more tightly than she expected but not nearly tight enough. Briefly she wondered just how much practice he'd had at this but pushed away the thought, deciding instead to shuffle closer and closer.

The small carriage was bumpy and hot and uncomfortable but she didn't want to leave, she wanted more of this, more of Nikola, more of the sweet pressure of his mouth on hers. And she wanted him to move his damn hands! They were too polite, too courteous in the way they held her. Suddenly she wanted him to grab at her, crush her against his chest in the manner her few illicit romance novels described. She wanted him to claim her, push her back against the seat, push up her skirts and...

And then he ripped his lips from hers, leaving her gasping for air but still desperate for more of him at the same time. His head dropped to her shoulder and, although she expected him to move back from her and release her waist, he did no such thing, leaving her pleasantly surprised.

Her lips were tingling slightly and her breathing laboured but she didn't care. Her entire body was warm and sleepy and, if it hadn't been for the pinching corset she wore, she'd have curled up into his side. Instead she simply slipped her arms around his neck, shifting closer until she could bury her face in the crook if his neck. He smelt good, warm and clean yet there a slight tang of sweat tainting it, making him smell more human. He smelt, in short, like a man.

Despite his wiry frame, as he held her close, Helen couldn't help but feel safe. She was starting to sweat and the way she was bent slightly made her corset dig in painfully but the only thing she was really registering was that she felt small and protected. It wasn't anything like the protection her father had always offered, it was something more. Nikola, for all his jaunty tendencies was, in this moment, decidedly masculine and it was this newly aroused masculinity that was making her insides turn to liquid.

"Thank you," she whispered reverently, holding him that little bit tighter. She hadn't meant to say the words, they'd just slipped out but it was true. Of all the men in the world with which to share such an experience, she couldn't think of anyone she'd rather share such memories with. This was Nikola, her closest friend and now, after the beauty of the previous few minutes, she knew, right down into the fibres of her very being that Nikola would be with her always. He would be her eternal friend, the one man to whom she could always turn.

Slowly, his head shifted. She thought to ask him about what he was doing but, as his lips came into contact with her neck, she couldn't do anything except gasp and shiver. The sensation was foreign and beautiful, something about it made her body tremble and so, when he wrapped his arms more securely around her, effectively drawing her closer, she was glad of the support he provided.

So caught up in the exotic feel of his lip on her skin, his moustache tickling at her nerves, she barely registered the soft way he murmured her name but her body most certainly didn't. It made her heart soar and as she gently laid her arms around his neck, she let out a small, contented sigh.

"Nikola," she whispered dreamily. He continued to kiss her neck tenderly and, needing more, she threw her head back to be rewarded by further reaching and more heated kisses. He hummed against the skin happily and she couldn't help it, her body turned to jelly and she relaxed completely into his arms.

"Helen," he muttered between lazy kisses, sending a thrill through her body. The sheer idea that she could hold so much power over him, that she could turn this cultured young man into a man fighting urges she couldn't even begin to fathom, was powerful, making her feel more alive than she ever had before.

"Mm?"

"Perhaps we should stop."

"Alright," she murmured, moving to stroke his cheek.

"Really," he insisted between kisses that were getting more and more heated. She sort of understood what he was saying but she sort of didn't care. His tongue was lapping at her neck and it the sensation was enough to drive her to distraction.

"If you say so," she said lazily before letting out a little sigh. She felt, rather than heard his groan of disapproval but there was no way she was going to be pushing him off, not when it felt this good to be this close to him. Then, all of a sudden she found herself flying across the carriage until she was pressed snugly into the corner. She half expected to find Nikola's body pinning her there but when her eyes fluttered open he was pressed into the other corner, breathing heavily as he stared at her with wild eyes.

She couldn't help the little mew of disapproval that slipped through her lips at the loss of contact and, needing to be close to him once more she shuffled towards him, closing what little distance there was between them.

"Just. A moment," Nikola choked out, holding a hand out to halt her progress. Unwilling to be put off, Helen took his hand in her own, continuing to move until her leg was pressed against his once more. She could see him struggling for control.

"Stop," he ordered, his voice cold and she froze, regret washing through her system as her fingers grew cold. She didn't decide to turn away from him but her body, acting on some kind of self preservation instinct shifted, her shoulder bowing as tears began to form in her eyes. Setting her jaw, Helen bit her tongue, unwilling to let the tears fall. He wasn't rejecting her, he couldn't reject her because there was nothing to their kiss except exploration of what was for her uncharted territory. Why was she getting so upset? It was just as kiss!

"Helen," he said softly, his hand landing on her shoulder but she shook him off. He didn't need to comfort her, she thought angrily, she wasn't upset, she wasn't about to cry, she wasn't tempted to hide in the corner because she was thankful she'd allowed him such a new and interesting experience.

"Oh, Helen please don't do this," he whispered frantically and she felt her body begin to give in to the irrational grief flooding her body. She tried to fight it, she really did but her shoulders shuddered once before she could control herself. Scolding her lack of control, Helen sat a little straighter, trying to focus on the country side that was, oddly enough, reminding her of the taste of his tongue.

"Come here," he ordered, taking her shoulder once more but she threw him off. She didn't need him, she didn't need his pity, she was perfectly fine. Her mind was simply occupied in dissecting the strange experience she'd just had.

"Helen," he murmured softly, his long fingers landing on her shoulder so gently that a tiny hiccup escaped her lips. She bit her lip, determined to be alright. She had no reason to feel this way.

She heard him sigh softly before his arms wrapped around her, one on her shoulder, the other sliding around her waist to pin her to his chest. Gasping quietly in surprise she tried to fight him, pushing off but he was too strong, holding her firmly in his warm arms. Then his lips found the skin of her throat and she stopped fighting.

"I'm sorry," he murmured against her skin. "But you've just to give a man time to compose himself."

She shouldn't forgive him so easily, one part of her brain screamed. There's nothing for which to forgive him, another roared. Kiss him you foolish girl and see how far you can take this, another whispered devilishly. Pushing away such thoughts she felt a sense of guilt for her actions. He didn't find her repulsive he was merely... Just thinking the word made her blush slightly, opening up a whole new avenue to be explored.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, letting herself get comfortable in his rather strong arms.

"Don't be silly," he scolded and she could hear him grinning. "You were fantastic. That's the entire problem."

She laughed softly at his words but said nothing, enjoying the warm silence that fell. Part of her mind suggested a myriad of things she could fill the silence with (mainly his moans) but she tried to ignore the strange and compelling heat flowing through her body, focusing instead on the previous assault on her senses.

Nikola was, to her mind at least, a rather exceptional kisser. He tasted sweet and clean, his breath didn't reek of onions or brandy and he smelt quite nice, all of which managed to make her brain a little hazy. She wasn't totally alright with the concept of her and Nikola pursuing a relationship that involved such kisses and caresses but of all the men with which she could have experienced such pleasure with, Nikola was, to her mind, an inspired choice. He was her friend and she adored him for indulging her silly whim to discover kissing. Both of them had expressed an dislike for the rules dictated by society, the staunch positions both men and women ought to fill held no attraction for either of them and, as such, she was confident that he would not go doing something rash after this afternoon. She'd shared a light kiss with a young man, many summers ago and not 6 hours later he was in her father's study asking for her hand in marriage. Nikola would never do something nearly as foolish as that, he was her friend, her confidante but he simply couldn't be her husband. She wasn't entirely certain she even wanted a husband.

Helen felt him shift behind her, breaking her revere as he began to splutter as his mouth filled with hair. Unable to help but giggle she sat up, pulling away so that she could turn and smile at him.

"You have too much hair," he complained, smoothing down her curls as he pulled her back to rest against his chest.

"Well if you hadn't been fidgeting," she scolded, grabbing one of his hands and interlacing their fingers. The simple gesture was one of friendship and it made her feel at peace.

"How does that have anything to do with the masses of curls?" he argued, using his free hand to twirl a few of the strands that sat on her shoulder.

"My hair has always been like this, or at least for as long as you have known me," she pointed out rationally. "So you should have known better."

She heard him scoff at her logic as he took hold of a few more ringlets, drawing them out in front of their faces so that the sunlight lit it up. Helen had never had much attachment to her hair, sure it was amenable enough but for all the compliments it garnered, she'd never understood the fuss.

"It's like spun gold," he murmured, twisting his fingers as her hair slipped easily between them. She watched, mesmerised as his long fingers danced gracefully, almost allowing the strands to slip away before capturing them once more, twirling beautifully. His fingers, she realised, were much like himself, strong and lean yet filled with unspoke grace. They were, much as he was, beautiful in the most unconventional of manners.

She scoffed at his complement somewhat belatedly, batting away his hands before replacing the curls in the cascade by her ear. His fingers were doing things to her that they really had no business doing. Perhaps if she hadn't kissed him she'd feel less crazed and dazed, she wondered absently, taking his free hand and drawing it down to rest on her stomach with their other hands, letting out a hum as his warmth seeped through the stiff fabric.

"Golden lads and girls all must, as chimney-sweepers, come to dust," she recited softly, his words of spun gold still dancing around her head.

"Don't speak like that," he complained, sounding a little disturbed. "It's too morbid."

"It's Shakespeare," she replied with a little shrug.

"I know  _that_ ," he drawled, tickling her belly a little. "Just what kind of boorish oaf do you think I'd be if I didn't know Cymbeline?" he protested as she squirmed and giggled.

"Forgive me," she said a little breathlessly. "I didn't pick you for a theatre enthusiast."

She wondered if he was about to make some lewd yet not totally unwelcomed comment and she was a little disappointed when none came. If given such an opportunity, she knew she'd be more than happy to kiss him once more.

"It's still morbid," he said and she felt him shrug.

"I like Shakespeare," she said softly. "He had such a way with words."

"All Shakespeare?" he asked and she could hear the distaste for such a thing in his voice. Let him poo poo her past time if he would, she decided easily. It wasn't as if she spent her entire life devoted to the study of such texts.

"Most of it," she said with a nod. "Though I can't stand A Midsummer Night's Dream." Thinking back to the many terrible productions she'd endured, Helen was unable to stifle a shudder.

"Do you have a favourite?" he asked with a laugh.

"It changes often," she admitted, "but right now it's Twelfth Night."

"I don't think I've read that one," he said and she started. Some of the men she'd met in her life had been avid enthusiasts of the playwright and poet but for someone who identified so clearly as a scientist to have read at least one play was a little astonishing.

"Read?" she echoed, turning to look up at him from where her head was resting on his chest.

"What?" he asked absently, before smiling down at her, confusion in his eyes. "Oh, yes, read. Why?"

"Not many people bother to read the plays," she said, giving him a quizzical look. "I'm impressed."

He said nothing, simply smiling down at her in a way that made her want to smile back. Something she had said had made him happy. Going over the last minute of their conversation she tried to puzzle it out but came up with nothing. Deciding that, for the moment it wasn't so important she pushed the thought aside, instead allowing the gentle rock of the carriage, familiar scenery and his tender embrace wash over her like a pleasant wave.

"We're almost there," she observed after a little while, sitting up slightly so she could better look out the window. She thought he might have sighed at her movement but suddenly she was excited for what this afternoon could entail. He moved forwards, resting his chin on her shoulder as she pointed to the landmarks she recognized.

"You really have no idea of any of this, do you?" she said with a laugh, leaning her head against his. Despite his accent she often forgot he'd spent very little time in the country, barely even a year had passed since he'd arrived and, according to him, just on six months since his life here really began. She knew he was referring to their first meeting at James' party but the sweet notion the words held made her reluctant to acknowledge the concept head on, instead smiling slyly every time he made mention of it.

"Haven't the foggiest," he admitted and she began to laugh.

"Never try to do an English accent again," she asked through fits of giggles, shifting away from him so that she could look him in the eye.

"Why?" he asked jovially, thickening his accent on purpose and she couldn't help but laugh once more.

"Because as adorable as it is, my stomach is starting to hurt from laughing so hard which makes me think I'm going to have a hard time enjoying the picnic you've packed," she said with a pointed look to the basket stowed under the seat. She'd noticed it as soon as they clambered into the carriage but he'd clearly worked so hard to make their day a surprise for her that she'd decided it polite to restrain herself from commenting.

"This is the last time I ever try and surprise you," he grumbled, crossing his arms at being found out.

"Well, it wasn't like you were going to be taking me to Sandford for anything else," she allowed, reaching out to cup his cheek. "As fantastic as the swimming is meant to be, I think that's a level of scandal we should leave untapped."

"Prude," he quipped, grabbing her waist and hauling her almost onto his lap.

"I'm British," she said, holding her head high and squaring her shoulders as she wrapped an arm around his neck. "It's what we do."

"You are the most un-British woman I have ever met," he scoffed, hands caressing her waist.

"Then what nationality am I?" she queried, cocking her head.

"French," he said determinedly.

"French?" she echoed, scrunching up her nose, eyes widening as he leant forward and pecked her nose. The gesture was startlingly intimate and, for the first time in her memory, Helen began to question the sanity of a decision she'd made out of a desire for knowledge. They were friends and she allowed him liberties that involved sitting on his lap but sweet little kisses, as harmless as they may seem on the surface, she knew would lead to somewhere she wasn't ever going to go with her darling Nikola.

"French," he agreed, pulling back to look her in the eye. "You're too pretty and your tongue too quick."

"And pray tell what experience do you have with French girls?" she asked softly, trying to keep the apprehension from her voice. Despite her worry that he'd take things too far, the idea of him learning secrets of the flesh from French girls, as ludicrous as she knew the idea to be, made her want to kiss him until he was hers and no one else's.

"I... ah..." he stuttered for a second and, with that, her inappropriate possessiveness disappeared. Nikola was truly too adorable some days. He clearly held the lead in experience by a slim margin and, while her head might be foolish enough to believe he wanted the path of sweet kisses, in her heart she knew that he was her friend, her best friend and the man she'd always love in a way society deemed inappropriate. Men and women weren't meant to be such close friends, she knew but they were the exception, not the rule.

"Oh lighten up Nikola," she said with a giggle, throwing her other arm around his neck as she nudged his knee with her own. "It was a joke."

"You aren't very good at jokes," he observed dryly and she let out a surprised cry of mock indignation. "And I've had no experience with any French woman," he said eyeing her sternly.

"Then how can you say I am French?" she asked quickly, grinning at his quick recovery.

"Because I know how British women are supposed to behave and how French women are supposed to behave and you most certainly break the majority of the rules surrounding British gentlewomen."

Biting her lip Helen looked at his cravat, playing with the elegant silk as she tried to brush off his words as the joke she knew they were. It wasn't his fault he'd hit the one nerve she'd exposed to him a little too readily. She had never been an ordinary woman, content to be average and she'd experience the scorn of society enough times that menacing whispers in ballrooms no longer had an effect on them. Even at Oxford she was finding her place, carving out a name for herself that earned her both respect and ridicule but always, behind the cool veneer she's spent years creating, part of her yearned for the acceptance of her fellows. She didn't act the way a woman ought to and she knew it. She didn't even want to act in that manner, boring wasn't her style but the idea that Nikola, sweetest Nikola thought her improper...

"Do you... do you think," she started softly. Of all the people with whom to discuss this, she knew Nikola would at the very least be honest with her. "Do you think I should perhaps, behave more like a gentlewoman?" She shifted slightly in his arms, ready to fly to the other side of the carriage should he tell her to.

"I change my mind," he said softly, taking her chin between two fingers and lifting it so that she was looking into his eyes. "You are the most British woman I have ever met," he declared quietly before leaning in to brush his lips against hers once, twice, three times before pulling away and smiling softly at her.

"I swear even your lips taste of tea."

Helen laughed reflexively at that, shifting closer to him once more. That was why she'd never leave Nikola, no matter what he'd be by her side because, underneath it all, they understood each other in a way that couldn't quite be described.

By the time they disembarked their carriage a short while later, Helen had managed to find a way to control her hands. As wonderful as it felt to have Nikola wrapped around her, his hands in hers, in public it was another matter and something, despite all her progressive thinking she'd not allow. She wanted more than anything for him to surround her once more and although she'd feared he'd be unable to let her be for a short period of time, he was showing a rather impressive yet frustration ability to control himself. Helen very quickly found herself hoping that wherever he was taking her was quiet and secluded so that she could wrap her arms around him once more.

Enjoying the summer day, Helen twirled her parasol as they strolled eagerly down the main street, feeling deliciously free. Nikola was by nature a quiet man who spoke freely when impassioned but usually kept his true feelings heavily veiled with a thick coat of distrust and sarcasm so to have him by her side, all but skipping as they walked made Helen's heart sing. To arouse such freedom in him was something she'd only ever achieved when they were holed up in her father's library or hidden away in an abandoned laboratory in Oxford yet here they were, walking down the street in front of people they knew and he was openly smiling.

Suddenly he was tugging on her arm, half dragging towards a tiny meadow she knew would do nothing for her cream gown. A laugh flew from her lips at his instance and disregard for her clothing. Tripping along beside him, she tried to keep herself together, the hat she'd hastily stuffed on her head as they'd left the carriage threatening to blow away as she hugged the blanket and picnic basket close.

She'd complained about the pace briefly but with no real heart until the mud in the paddock grew too much to bear. He took from her the basket and parasol to ease her journey and in a matter of minutes they were at the water's edge, Nikola once again powering ahead, leaving Helen to follow him with a bemused smile on her face. Not that she'd let him see that, he needed to be properly reprimanded for making her trudge through a meadow.

And then she'd seen the place he'd obviously been searching for. The water was gently lapping at the edge of the grassy bank that sloped gently to a small clearing, shadowed by trees yet still sunny enough that they'd not freeze by the hand of the fresh water slipping by. Once she'd recovered her wits she'd turned to Nikola, throwing herself into his arms before she even realised what she'd done. He caught on quickly enough though, grabbing her closer and spinning her around as if she weighed nothing at all. Helen had laughed happily, pleased with not only his surprise but his reaction to her almost inappropriate gesture. Slowly he'd lowered her to the ground and something inside her had come alive. No matter what happened, no matter where they went or what the future held for them, she knew, she just  _knew_  that they'd always be Helen and Nikola.

Smiling softly at her epiphany-like moment, she'd reached up, grabbed his face and pulled him down for a brief kiss, allowing her happiness to spread between them. She'd pulled back quickly, pleased to see him smiling at her before she danced away, eager to start the picnic. They'd bickered briefly, bantering in their own way before they'd settled on the rug. Hours had passed since then but still Helen felt the inexplicable rightness of the situation in her bones. Their conversations had been free flowing and merry and now, looking over at Nikola she had to smile. No one had ever gone to this much trouble for her before. Well, that wasn't technically true but Helen didn't exactly count her father in matters such as these. For what reason she wasn't sure for she loved them both equally but still, Nikola held something that spoke to her in a way her father didn't.

Glancing over at him once more, she stifled a chuckle. His brows were pulled together in concentration, obviously deep in thought

"Cherry for your thoughts?" Helen offered with a sly grin, offering him a pair of cherries and he smiled, clearly a little startled at her intrusion.

"Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!" he replied with a smirk. Narrowing her eyes she threw the cherries at his head.

"Nasty," he muttered as the projectile hit its mark.

"I told you to stop," she said with a smile and a smirk.

"It is rather unfortunate you hate that play," he drawled, moving to sit cross-legged before her.

"Don't even try to tell me that I remind you of Helena," she said, ready to begin pointing out the stupidity such an effort. The comparison had been made several times and while Helen had no real issue with her given name, there were times when she wished she'd not born a resemblance to the statuesque woman of her least favourite play.

"Please, of all the women in that play you most resemble Titania," he replied with a wink.

"Oh really," she said sceptically, pulling a face.

"Queen of my heart," he said with a goofy grin and she pegged another cherry at him. Cheeky, bloody monkey, she thought as he dodged the flying fruit. With a gleam in his eye he darted forwards to the bowl, grabbing a cherry and tossing it at her.

When the fruit lodged itself in her cleavage she had to stifle a sigh. If he reached over and made a grab for it she'd rip out his moustache hair by hair. With careful fingers she pulled the fruit free before throwing it at him, pleased when it hit his forehead, leaving a small red mark in it's place.

"Ow!" he exclaimed as the berry fell to his lap.

And then he did the unthinkable, picking up the berry and popping it into his mouth, biting on the flesh slowly before sucking hard. The action wasn't particularly salacious but something about it made her squirm in delight. He swallowed and she felt her heart beat rise a few notches. She was just about to lean over and see how his natural flavour mixed with that of the cherry when he turned his head, spitting the cherry pit into the grass.

"Must you spit like that?" she asked as he turned back, the spell broken, "It's so... dirty."

"It's that or I handle the pit," he said. "I think it's the much less dirty option."

Sighing Helen rolled her eyes but she was unable to keep from smirking at him. He was impossible to argue with when he was right.

She turned back to the river, content to watch its lazy progression until something hit her ribs. Glancing down, Helen realised just what he'd done.

"Nikola!" she cried, outraged as she licked her thumb and tried to swipe the mark away. The dress was new, worn only because it was their last day together for quite some time and now she had to worry not only about the mud around her ankles but a cherry stain too.

"Out, out damn spot," he joked before grabbing his handkerchief, handing it over to her. Glaring at him, she accepted the cloth, dipping it into her glass of water before rubbing at her gown once more.

"Try and compare me to Lady Macbeth, I dare you," she grumbled between clenched teeth as the stain finally began to move. She didn't need anyone to come and remove her women's milk for gall, she'd be more than happy to torture him, breasts intact.

"While you have her strength," Nikola said, grabbing her wrist to pull the cloth from her grip. "You have not and need not lose your femininity in order to gain it," he said softly as he began to clean the small spot for her. The gentle pressure of his fingers on her ribs was distracting but somehow she resisted the urge to grab his hand and pull it a little higher. When finally the blemish was gone he sat up, dropping the handkerchief with a smile and Helen felt a tiny pit of fear open up in her gut. Would he go further? Or, more importantly, did she want him to go further?

"Normally people say I am not like her because I lack ambition," she offered softly, trying to keep her mind from his ridiculously attractive fingers.

"Then I'd say those people do not know you," he said firmly, taking her hand and making her gasp quietly. "All of your plans border on highly ambitious, if not criminally insane."

"Is your goal in life to goad me into causing you physical harm?" she asked with a small smile.

"Naturally," he drawled, lifting her hand to his lips and she had to grin at his gesture. "I'm fairly sure Shakespeare even wrote a play about such tactics and where they might lead." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her and she laughed happily.

"Why Mr. Tesla, are you saying you intend to break my spirit so that I shall become a docile little play thing, willing to do your bidding?"

He wrinkled his nose.

"Firstly, you already do my bidding," he said, dodging the cherry she threw at him. "And secondly, I think I change my mind. You'd be no fun without your sharp tongue and gleaming wit," he said with a slightly sarcastic edge.

"Come out and say it Nikola," she goaded.

"Say what?" he asked, eyes wide in fake innocence.

"You think me to be a shrew, don't you?" she said with a wicked smile.

"Never," he said and she let out a cry of indignation.

"If I am to be Katherina, then you are..." she accused, flicking through the characters she was fond of but despised at the same time. "Iago!" she said finally, smiling in her victory.

"Some student of Shakespeare you are," he scoffed. "Those are two very different plays."

"Do you really think me that unintelligent?" she asked scornfully. "Iago was merely the best comparison I can think of."

Nikola made a face.

"Of all the possibilities, why on earth  _him_?" he whined.

"Because I am certain you are out to ruin my good name and standing," she quipped with a devilish smile.

"Minx!" he cried, reaching out to grab her, almost vaulting over the small mountain of food until he fell almost on top of her. She couldn't stop the squeak of surprise that flew from her lips but when he began to tickle her in earnest, she didn't even try to stem her squeals.

"Oh god, Nikola please!" she cried between helpless giggles, arms flailing as they tried to gain purchase but he was too quick.

"Take it back," he ordered with a laugh as he continued to assault her sides.

"I take it back! I take it back!" she squealed. "Just stop please!"

Grinning victoriously he chuckled down at her. A scolding was ready on her tongue, prepared to be delivered with a sharp blow to the shoulder but then she realised that her hands were already on his shoulders. Actually, his chest was pressed lightly to her chest, his hips to her hips and, quite scandalously, her legs had shifted to the side to cradle his. They were close, too close, not close enough and it was killing her.

She saw the moment he realised what was going on, something in his eyes darkening as he looked down at her, the ghost of his grin still on his lips. His lips. They were close too, she realised and she had to fight the urge to arch her back. Her breathing was getting more and more laboured and she was more than aware it had nothing to do with the staunch corset she wore. She wanted to kiss him, to taste him as she had before. Would it be different to before? Would the angle change the sensations? Her scientific mind was abuzz with ideas, theories and experiments. They hadn't shared more than an innocent peck since the carriage and, funnily enough it set a low ache in her belly. She needed to kiss him in a way that was most unbecoming. Jerking her head she tried to reach him but it wasn't enough, he'd need to move too. Then, by some miracle, he did just that.

His lips pressed against hers enthusiastically as he cupped her cheek. She moaned at the sensation much to her own embarrassment but when he rolled them she forgot about it, instead squeaking in surprise. Then she noticed that from where she was, she'd have free reign to explore his mouth. Returning her lips to his, she worked on her discovery, finding the movements and spots that made him squirm. Her hands fisted in the fabric of his jacket and she felt her hair begin to come loose, cascading down around them but she didn't care, intent on discovering all she could of Nikola's warm mouth. She was vaguely aware of one of his hands on her back, caressing her softly as the other hand tangled in her hair but instead of distracting her, she was surprised to find that it only added to the sensations she was already struggling with. It wasn't until she became dizzy from the lack of oxygen that she pulled away, staring down at him in disbelief. Had she really just done that? Sure it was all in the name of new experiences and discovery but she recognized that she'd maybe gone a little too far.

Nikola's eyes were wide, pupils blown and she could feel him panting beneath her. His lips were swollen from her kisses, shining softly in a way that reminded her how very sweet he tasted mixed with cherry and chicken and the few bites of lemon meringue tart he'd had. He looked just as shocked as she felt and then it hit her. This was as much about exploration for him as it was for her. Both of them were trying something new, interested as always in the pursuit of knowledge. Why else would he look so confused? He was trying to process the sensations just as much as she was.

Then something most peculiar happened. She burst out laughing, giggling and snorting quietly into the crook of his neck. She wondered briefly if Nikola was offended by her laughter but he joined in soon enough. It took a few moments but eventually their laughter subsided and she sat up, straddling his thighs as she grabbed his lapels, dragging him upright.

"Thank you," she said with a smile. She hadn't really meant to say the words but they were out there and she knew they were the truth.

"That's the second time you've said that today," he said, his voice a little thick as he slid his arms around her.

"No, I mean it," she insisted with a smile. "I've often wondered what it would be like to... well, you know and I..." she broke off with a giggle. "I'm glad you were able to  _show_  me," she continued with a meaningful look that she knew was probably ridiculous. He rolled her eyes and she smiled, once again certain she'd made her choice well.

"I gather you found the experience satisfactory then?" he said seriously and she laughed freely, running a hand over his hair to slick it back down. As much as she enjoyed seeing it messed up, she knew how particular he was about it sitting the way he preferred.

"You performed admirably," she replied, trying to keep a straight face. She marvelled at how normal this felt, like any of their banter after an experiment, dissecting the results with good humour.

"Admirably, is that all?" he asked softly, his voice dangerous.

"Come now Nikola, you know you were...  _better_  than admirable," she said, blushing slightly. Did he really need her to say the words? Surely he was aware of how much she'd enjoyed his attentions."I couldn't have asked for a better... you know." She felt her blush deepen but his hands tightened in their grip and she smiled.

"You were rather spectacular yourself," he murmured, leaning in to brush his nose against hers. She giggled quietly, leaning into the nuzzle before slipping to press her lips to his cheek, a little surprised when he shivered at the contact.

"I mean it Nikola," she said softly, hoping he could see the gratitude in her eyes. "There is no one I'd rather have experienced such a beautiful moment with than my best friend."

Something in his eyes sank a little at her words but his smile was strong, confirming her beliefs. This was Nikola and he had given her a gift, something she'd remember always.

"I'm going to miss you these holidays," she said with a small sigh, reaching out to caress his cheek before smoothing down his moustache with a gentle finger. God she hated the blasted thing, it was rather unattractive, made him look like an old man and it tickled when they kissed.

"I'll miss you too," he agreed softly as he tugged her closer. Leaning forward she smirked, noticing where his gaze was trained on her chest but he surprised her by looking up into her eyes.

"I wish you could come with me," she said quietly. "Father and I shall have the most wonderful time but I don't think it shall be nearly as enjoyable without you."

"Do you really expect me to feel sorry for you?" he asked with a smirk. "After all you'll be off cavorting around the countryside with your deal old father having the time of your life while I will be stuck here, wasting away as I count down the days until your return."

"Please," she scoffed, "Father and I will be  _working_. And if you waste away Nikola, there shall be nothing left of you."

"Ah yes," he said rolling his eyes. "Your father's ever mysterious work. Are you ever going to tell me what it is he does that requires you to be so utterly secretive?" he asked and she bit her lip. Her father's work had been a point of contention between them for some time. She couldn't tell him of the abnormals they worked with or the great wonders she'd discovered in her short time by his side as much as she wanted to. She knew Nikola would be accepting of the idea but she trusted her father. He said she was to tell no one so she told no one, as painful as it was to keep such a secret from her best friend.

"I'm sorry Nikola," she said softly after a moment, still unable to look him in the eye.

"Oh, it's alright," he muttered, tightening his grip on her once more, making her feel a little warm and fuzzy. "Just promise me you'll tell me the minute you are back in Oxford again."

"I think I can do better than that," she said, suddenly excited. "I'll write to you," she explained upon seeing his confused look. She'd had the idea the other day but had been a little unsure as to whether or not he'd be interested in such an idea. The thought of travelling without him made her feel pre-emptively lonely and she almost hoped the thought gave him the same feeling.

"I won't be able to write back. You're travelling all over the country," he pointed out but she shook her head, she'd thought this through.

"Write me a reply but keep it until I return home. Then you can give them to me all at once," she said, grinning down at him, pleased with her idea. He smiled back and she felt relief flood her body.

"Do you promise to write often?" he asked seriously. "And I want big letters. Pages and pages on how much you miss me."

"Of course," she said with a grin. "And I want the same in return."

"Of course," he echoed with a grin.

"Then it's settled," she said, nodding once before leaning in to press her lips once more to his in a fleeting kiss. She tried to pull away but Nikola wasn't having any of it, following her lips with his own as she retreated. Only when a great clap of thunder rang out did he relinquish his chase.

"I suppose it's time to go then," she murmured, trying to hide her pout of annoyance. While it was bordering on unreasonably hot, at least the sun meant they could extend their afternoon but with the approaching rain they'd have no choice but to turn back. Reluctantly she rolled off him, instantly missing the contact.

It took them only a few minutes to clean up their picnic, Helen fighting the urge to touch him the entire time. There was something comforting about being that close to another human being and she was quickly beginning to miss it.

They bickered over who was to carry the basket and blanket but there'd been no real heart to it, she was a little too ticked off at having their afternoon cut short to really put much effort into her comments. Despite the fact that they'd almost run back to the carriage, they were both soaked by the time they clambered in. Looking down Helen was dismayed at the state of her dress, sneaking back into the townhouse was going to be a little more difficult.  _Everyone_  was going to know she'd been up to what could be considered no good.

"I don't suppose we've a towel," Helen asked as they lurched into motion. He pulled a face before making a quick search of the cabin, coming up with only the now dirty blanket they'd eaten on.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, dragging off his own jacket and folding it neatly before stowing it in the corner.

"Don't be," she said cheerfully. "This afternoon has truly been one of the best of my life, a little rain isn't going to change that."

His answering smile was brighter than any sunlit afternoon and, if anything made her grateful that the rain had presented this conversation to them. Why such a simple admission brought him such joy she wasn't sure but his grin made her heart beat faster. His almost childish glee was infectious and, she realised, something she never wanted to see leave. For all his cynicism and sarcasm, deep down she knew he was far more complex, a man with more layers than she would ever be able to dissect. Nikola had a heart of pure gold, untainted and beautiful.

He'd told her several times in passing of his upbringing, of the lack of affection in his home and it astounded her that that story belonged to the sensitive young man before her. Sure she'd had trouble getting him to be open with her previously but once those barriers were gone he was to her an open book. She knew him in a way she'd never thought to know someone else. He was in every way her closest friend, the man with whom she could share everything without fear of judgement or scorn. He didn't reprimand her for trying to kiss him, he didn't call her a harlot for being so brazen about her desire to learn. He was her Nikola and, as such, she wasn't startled when he reached for her, dragging her to his side. She hummed happily as he wrapped his arms around her, keeping her safe and warm. In no time at all she was falling asleep, finding him to be far more comfortable than any pillow she'd ever had.

Her dreams were pretty, filled with sunlit meadows and the taste of cherries. The Helen of her dreams danced freely in her chemise as Nikola laughed throatily at her antics. She made a face at his treatment of her before swanning over and falling into his lap with a giggle, his body melding to hers as he rolled her over, kissing her firmly for several minutes.

"Helen."

Someone was speaking to her, she knew they were but they were far away and Nikola's hands were drifting up her thighs which clearly took precedence. It wasn't until she felt her body move against her own will that she realised it was all a dream. Blinking slowly she sat up, smiling at Nikola softly.

The majority of the carriage ride was spent in silence, Helen falling asleep very early on. It wasn't until they reached Oxford that he thought it proper to wake her.

"We're almost home," he said, brushing the hair from her eyes.

They couldn't be, she thought, sitting up straighter. Not only did that mean they'd have to part ways sooner rather than later but it also meant that she'd have to at least try and salvage her dress.

"My hair," she muttered as she tried to sort out the tangled mess. As nice as it felt to have him tangle his hands in her hair, the resulting knot was rather annoying. As she gave up on her hair she noticed he was still looking at her, looking completely confused by her actions. Straightening her bodice as much as she could she turned to face him.

"How do I look?"she asked with a small smirk.

"Like a woman who had to run through the rain," he answered promptly and she sighed.

"I suppose it's better than the alternative."

"And what would that be?" he asked with a grin.

Rolling her eyes she straightened her hair once more, trying not to bite her lip. It was one thing to look positively debauched with the man who had witnessed said debauchery but her father was home and the maids would be out in full force. There was no ways she'd be able to skirt by them.

"You look fine," he whispered, moving closer to her as if he could sense her discomfort. "I promise, no one would guess that you've done anything worse than gone out in the rain." Relaxing against him she pretended for a few minutes he was right.

But then the carriage came to a stop and that pit of fear reared its ugly head. Once she stepped from the carriage she'd not see him for several weeks  _and_  she had her father's wrath to face though the former was far more daunting than the latter. In the past six months she and Nikola had barely been apart and the idea that she'd not be able to talk to him for all that time was strange. In a relatively short period of time he'd become her best friend, acting as if he'd known her years rather than weeks but now they were to be parted and part of her wondered if he'd still care for her after such an absence.

"I think it's best if you don't walk me to the door," she said quietly though she wanted more than anything for him to do just that if only so they could spend a few more moments together. "I look frightful as it is and if you were to escort me..."

"I understand," he said, his voice unnaturally even as he fiddled with a handkerchief.

"Nikola?" she asked softly, taking solace in the fact that he looked as downcast as her.

"Yes?" he whispered and she bit her lip.

"Goodbye," she murmured seconds before leaning in and kissing him softly. His hand flew to cup her cheek as he responded gently, his lips moving against hers only slightly. This kiss, in contrast to their others was reserved, both of them trying to seal off the wonderful day they'd had. She vaguely hoped he'd throw caution to the wind and her to the floor but when his kiss remained polite she was also pleased. He'd not overstep her boundaries, she was sure of it.

Eventually she pulled away, looking down as she reached for the door. Her hand was just reaching the polished wood when he caught it, tugging her towards him for another quick kiss.

"I'll miss you," he whispered against her lips and she shivered. She had to leave, it wasn't as if they'd never see each other again plus she had several letters to look forward to receiving on her arrival home.

"And I'll miss you," she replied before slipping from his arms and the carriage, heading towards up the stairs and towards the townhouse.

It wasn't until she was safely ensconced behind the wooden door that Helen let herself turn around and look back, despite the hindered view. It was silly, she argued internally, to feel so upset because she wasn't going to be allowed to enjoy Nikola's company for a short period of time.

"Miss..." someone breathed from behind her and Helen spun round, putting on her very best lady of the house face. Brigette stood, eyes wide, hands clutching at her apron as she gaped.

"I'll need to bathe," Helen said quickly, striding towards the stairs in the hopes that she'd be able to get upstairs before one of the more vocal maids found her. Or, heaven forbid, Elsie the cook who loved to berate her for her lack of social grace.

"Helen?"

Her foot was on the bottom stair, she was so close she could almost taste the quick getaway.

"Father," she ground out, turning slowly to smile at him.

He said nothing, simply raising an eyebrow.

"We had a picnic," she began with a sigh. "And it started to rain. I ran for the carriage but by then it was too late."

"We?"

She swallowed.

"Nikola and I."

He raised his eyebrow further.

"As a last hurrah, you know."

He simply looked her up and down a few times as Helen tried not to bite her lip. She didn't really fear her father but if she was to spend the next few weeks in close quarters, it was better that he didn't have something to chastise her for. This trip was meant to be pleasant, a way in which she could not only visit her cousin Ashley in Wales but also would give them a chance to study some of the more ferocious abnormals that had been reported in the waters near Cardiff.

"He was a gentleman."

His words were not a question, he knew she'd never allow anything else but she recognized an out when presented with one. He wasn't asking about her behaviour so that she wouldn't have to lie.

"Hired the carriage and all," she readily agreed and he smiled.

"Your ability to attract strange creatures is second to none sweetheart," he quipped, shaking his head as he wandered towards his study.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Helen turned and continued up the stairs, pleased when Brigette appeared out of nowhere to help her undress. It wasn't until she was settled in the large claw foot tub her father had purchased for her that the young maid got up the courage to say something.

"Your hair is a mess."

"I know," Helen replied. "It dried strangely."

"It's flat back here. Like you when you sleep on it wet only I'd say you weren't sleeping flat."

Helen said nothing, shooting the girl a silencing look that surprisingly enough did nothing. As she shifted her hair from her shoulder to run the sponge over the skin, the young maid gasped.

"Miss! Is that a..." she trailed off, eyes glued to the small mark that stood out at the base of her neck.

Helen could do nothing but smile smugly.

It may not have been a war wound that some of the maids giggled about but at least now she was able to say she'd had some experience.

"Yes Brigette, I imagine it is."


	10. Dear Nikola

_Monday 29_ _th_ _, July 1878._

_London._

_Dear Nikola,_

_I write this from the carriage as we leave our townhouse in London so please forgive me if my hand is all but unintelligible. It seems strange to me to write to you when we are only just setting out on our journey but as I sat and watched the sun shining down upon the city, I couldn't help but think of you and your dislike of what is supposed to be very insipid English sunshine. I hate to think how you'd do in one of the colonies. India is supposed to be frightful in summer._

_Oh, something just occurred to me! Perhaps if I am to write this quickly enough, it shall be ready by the time we stop for lunch and then I could post it to you sooner than I thought. Though I do not know how likely that is, the swaying of the carriage, whilst most beneficial if you are trying to nap as my father is, is making me feel rather ill as I try to concentrate on the paper and as such I must take very frequent breaks._

_I must confess, last night I was nearly unable to sleep with excitement. For such a long time my father has undertaken these trips without me much to my displeasure so I am very much looking forward to helping him with his work. More than that, I am excited to see my cousin Ashley of whom you've heard me speak many times. People say she and I could pass as sisters, the resemblance is so uncanny though I cannot see it. She is shorter than I, far more petite and her hair does not curl as outrageously as mine. I've told her on many occasions that her beauty is wasted out in the moors of Wales but she only laughs. She is just as academically inclined as I. In fact, I think you and Ashley would get on swimmingly (if only for the idea that you'd be able to plot against me)._

_For all that I am excited by this trip, I cannot think that this is the worst possible year for my father's change of heart. Every summer previous to this I have spent my days holed up in the library with few friends with which to spend the time but now that I have such a good and dear friend in you, I am unable to spend my summer by your side._

_..._

_I shall continue to remind myself that summer is short and that you are awaiting my return and hopefully then I shall be able to enjoy this trip._

_Yours,_

_Helen._

* * *

_Friday 2_ _nd_ _, August. 1878._

_Cheltenham._

_Dear Nikola,_

_We've taken a very round-a-bout route to reach out current destination but it has been magnificent. I am learning ever so much from my father and it is that learning that has kept me from writing to you every day as you requested. People treat my father so differently out here, much less formally than the stuffy circles of both London and Oxford and it's refreshing to not have to bend to convention at every turn. The people out here are simple country folk for the most part but very kind indeed. A young girl I met in the last village gave me a beautiful leather bound journal, superior to most anything you could get in Oxford! She even told me that her older brother taught her to work the leather and, when they heard that the kind old Mr. Gregory was bringing his daughter next time he visited, they took it to town and asked the book maker to find some paper for it. It really is a beautiful item and I've already started to use it as my field journal. Perhaps, if father allows, I'll show it to you when we get home._

_I do miss you very much Nikola, I think that you'd be very interested in the beauty of the countryside out here, so different to that of Oxford. However I'm sure you'd take issue with the amount of mud that has become a part of my life. Do you remember the soft brown boots I wore that you said looked far too sturdy for traipsing around the halls of Oxford? Well they are most certainly not sturdy enough for the terrain out here. The first day I wore them I ended up with mud soaking through to dry on my feet! It was most horrid though I ought to be grateful that it was not a cowpat I stood in._

_..._

_My father is again asking to whom I scribble so frantically so I shall draw this letter to a close but I promise another shall soon follow._

_Yours,_

_Helen._

* * *

_Tuesday 6_ _th_ _, August. 1878._

_Gloucester._

_Dear Nikola,_

_I must apologise for not writing sooner! We have been staying here in Gloucester for two days now because of the almost torrential rain but I've neglected to write you another letter despite the lack of other entertainments. I think the problem is that I shan't be receiving any responses from you until I get home which is rather disheartening. Oh well, perhaps we shall have another picnic to make up for it._

_Oh heaven's, I really shouldn't write that, it makes me blush just to think of our lovely outing which arouses my father's suspicions to no end. I really did have a magnificent time that afternoon Nikola, I cannot thank you enough for going to all that effort for me. The other day when we stopped for lunch, we actually ended up sitting by a small brook and I could not stop smiling the whole time. Father asked what had made me so happy and so I explained the beautiful picnic to him (an edited version, obviously) and he too smiled. He said you were the nicest man he'd ever heard of but advised me to write to you and explain that you ought to ask for my hand soon or he'd start to think you had less than honourable intentions! I laughed at him and told him you'd do nothing of the sort but he just scoffed. He still holds to the notion that a man and a woman cannot be close without some sort of romantic attachment between them._

_I did then point out my friendship with James Watson (who I really think you should spend more time with, he is a rather lovely young man and very intelligent too) but my father shook his head. He says that you and I are like two birds of the same feather; flighty, irrepressible and troublesome. Please don't take offense to that, he means it in the nicest way and I think it is a good sign that he is finally warming to you. He wasn't that keen on you when we first met at James' party but I think I've just about convinced him that you aren't some crazed foreigner here to steal away his daughter. That and he is rather impressed by the work you are doing in your chosen field. He did tell me not to tell you that but the truth of the matter is, as fierce as he likes to pretend to be, my father is as harmless as a child's toy bear._

_..._

_One day I'd very much like to show you around this part of the country because despite the fact I've very rarely visited, it is a magnificent place and I think you need to develop a broader understanding of this fair country. Oxford and London aren't nearly as beautiful as the rolling fields and quaint towns. Though if I do manage to one day bring you out here, you must promise not to make fun of the people. Think on it and I'll do a better job of convincing you of its beauty when I return._

_Yours,_

_Helen._

* * *

_Saturday 10_ _th_ _, August. 1878._

_Whitecroft._

_Oh Nikola! How I wish you'd been with me over these past few days! The weather has been terrible which has put my father in the most sour of moods. The forest of Dean through which we passed was beautiful and I did indeed learn very much from our time there but the rain soaked through my dress and I was chilled to the bone. Then, the inn in which we stayed was draughty and the fire would not heat even your tiny apartment in Oxford let alone the painfully large suite I had! I was positively miserable despite the beautiful scenery and only thoughts of you were able to keep me from snapping at my father. It's not that I doubt you'd be complaining any less than I am but you have a way about you that brings a smile to my face regardless of where I find myself._

_I should stop complaining now because the sun is out and helping to fight off the cold I seem to have come down with but, with the illness has come a bout of homesickness. I miss you Nikola and, when my father decides to lock himself away with his work, I am terribly lonely. Our dank little carriage has not the warmth of the ride we shared not too long ago._

_As I sit here I can hear my father snoring opposite me but if I close my eyes I can imagine you sitting by me, commenting on the fact that my hair is an awful mess, my handwriting atrocious and that I should stop moaning. If I squeeze my fist tightly enough closed I can just about feel your hand in mine. I miss you Nikola and, when I get home, I beg you to never let me dash away without you again. Your companionship is, I think, one of the only things that would chase away these blasted sniffles._

_Yours miserably,_

_Helen._

* * *

_Thursday 15th, August. 1878._

_Kilgwrrwg._

_Dear Nikola,_

_Firstly I must announce that finally you are receiving a letter from Wales! The tiny hamlet we are spending the night in reminds me of something of a fairytale. I half expect to see a knight come around the corner to rescue the beautiful yet poverty stricken young maiden from the hands of her cruel step mother! But more on that later._

_I also want to apologise for my last letter. Yesterday in the carriage I was looking though the rough copy of the letter I kept (so that when I read your responses I have something to read from) and realised just how silly I was. I shouldn't have been so dreary nor should I have written to you in that manner. I most certainly miss you and will rejoice when I can see you once more but to phrase my loneliness in such a way was inappropriate of me. Please don't think me to be one of those foolish young girls who seek affection and romantic attachment with those who are not romantically interested in them. I respect you immensely Nikola and I should not have been so free with my words. You are my friend above all else and I ask for forgiveness. Please do not turn away from me for a few silly words, I swear it shall not happen again._

_..._

_Unfortunately, I must again stop writing for the bumpy roads and sway of the carriage are threatening to play games with my lunch once more._

_Yours,_

_Helen._

* * *

_Saturday 17_ _th_ _, August. 1878._

_Caerleon._

_Dear Nikola,_

_We are now approaching our final destination! The town in which we are staying this evening is only a stone's throw from Newport, and once we have crossed the city we shall be very close to Cardiff indeed. Ashley and her parents live just outside of Cardiff in a beautiful old manor that was purchased by my mother's grandfather as a way to escape London and its bustle. It is a fascinating building and within it are a great many pictures of my mother. Visiting is always such a treat for my father very rarely speaks of my mother so hearing stories of her are a gift for me. Of course, I cannot hold it against him for losing the one you love in the manner he did is something I cannot properly fathom but with so few memories of my own it is a great solace to hear of a time when she was a young and vibrant woman unaffected by the sickness that took her from us._

_..._

_The town we are staying in is rather beautiful, filled to the brim with old roman sites that are truly fascinating. If I return one day, I would so love to spend more time here, discovering the secrets of the place. Of course, I expect that by the time I return you will have found out everything about the place that you can so if I am to return, you will most certainly need to accompany me if only so I have a knowledgeable guide._

_Now, considering my candle is very close to burning out, I shall have to say good bye and goodnight. It may be a few days before I can send a letter once more but I promise I shall write as soon as I can._

_Yours,_

_Helen._

* * *

_Friday 30_ _th_ _, August. 1878._

_Oxford._

His hands trembled as he held her latest and unopened letter in his hands. Each letter he received was opened with the exact same reaction but considering the gap that had preceded this one, he was doubly excited. He looked to the map on his desk and each of the careful circles he'd drawn around the places she'd mentioned as he tried to figure where she would be at this exact moment. He had no doubt that the letter he held was written from the home in Cardiff she spoke of but it had become a game to him to figure out where she could be as he read her latest letters.

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, he traced a finger over the cursive script on the front, enjoying the clarity with which it was written now that she didn't need to write whilst in a carriage though there was a blotch that spoke of her writing and addressing the envelope with great speed.

Flipping it over, his brow furrowed. Why was she so eager?

Just as he reached for the letter opener by his table, a knock at the door sounded. Confused, Nikola glanced to the clock. It was just past 2 in the afternoon and he had no engagements until tomorrow morning.

Fighting down the frustration he felt at being interrupted, he placed the letter down on his bed before making his way to the door. Slowly he pulled it open only to come face to face with a beaming Watson.

"Tesla," he greeted warmly, clapping him on the shoulder as he sauntered into the room. "Just about ready to go? We don't want to keep them waiting."

"Go where?" Nikola asked, thoroughly confused.

"So you didn't get her latest letter then?" James asked, face falling.

"The letter from Helen? Yes," he replied. "I was just about to read it. Why? How do you know about our letters?"

He knew his tone was a touch too defensive but he couldn't help it, the thought of someone else knowing about her promise to write to him made his skin crawl.

"She sent me to pick you up," James replied easily, thankfully skipping over Nikola's obvious attachment to her. "She arrived back in town today and, in that letter she told you I'd be around to bring you to her."

"She's back?" Nikola asked, thoughts of another boring and lonely week flying from his head.

"Arrived this morning," James said with a nod. "Are you ready to go or do you want me to send word we'll be late?"

"Give me 10 minutes," Nikola replied eagerly. "I'll meet you downstairs. I just need to collect up some things."

James chuckled but smiled warmly before strolling from the room. The instant the door was shut, Nikola ripped off his clothes, running to the closet to find his freshest suit and shirt. He dressed in record time before dashing into his miniscule bathroom. He washed his face, combed and set his hair before finally standing still a moment. He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he straightened his suit.

He smiled broadly at his reflection before turning on his heel and walking calmly to the bed to grab not only her latest and unread letter but also the small pile of letters he'd written in response to her.

Heading to the door he grabbed a coat and hat, trying not to run down to the carriage.

It wasn't until he was half way down the corridor he realised he'd forgotten shoes.

* * *

_Tuesday 20_ _th_ _, August. 1878._

_Caerdydd. (Ashley says I ought to learn Welsh but I think calling it Cardiff is perfectly acceptable)_

_Dear Nikola,_

_This letter will reach you later than I'd have hoped but Ashley has promised me it will reach you as quickly as a letter can travel the distance between us. I did ask her to explain her methods but she only spoke a phrase in Welsh (which I am still having trouble learning) before grinning at me and turning away._

_I have told her all about you and she is most eager to meet you one day however she does seem to share the view of my father that our relationship is one that shouldn't exist in its current form. Ashley however, is a little more understanding though after telling her of our picnic (edited, as per usual) she is certain that you either intend to soil me for all other men or whisk me away to Gretna Green. Have no fear though Nikola, she only jests and I take none of what she says seriously. She does not know you as I do and, as such cannot make such decisions about our friendship. Plus she has a romantic streak a mile wide._

_Actually, on second thoughts, I'd best not introduce the two of you! She'd likely have you swooning in a matter of minutes and then I'd have to put up with watching the pair of you moon over each other. Ashley is one of those women who are simply irresistible to all men and her ability make men fall in love with her is unparalleled though she is very good about it. For all her wiles, she is rather mischievous and does enjoy leading on some of the more ridiculous suitors. Once a man almost 5 years older than her own father asked to court her! I think she makes my father rather pleased that he as a daughter who won't attract that kind of attention. Well, I suppose it has happened once but I was 19 at the time and in comparison to Ashley's long line of suitors it does not really matter._

_Anyway, enough about the romantic pursuits of my cousin. As much as I miss you, I must admit it is lovely to be back here. I've spent so long away that it truly feels like a homecoming. One day you must let me bring you here, the library is cavernous, the furnishings tasteful and the mud is minimal. I'm certain you would love being out here and the fresh air is just marvellous. I can-_

_I'm terribly sorry Nikola but I shall have to cut this short, my father has just found the most amazing thing and I have to go but I have good news to leave you with. Although this will be the last letter I am able to send you, we shall be returning home early and I promise to write you small notes as we go. If all goes to plan we shall be back in Oxford on the 30_ _th_ _of August but that's not all. I shall, the moment I've finished this send a letter to James to ask him to bring you to my home on the afternoon of the 30_ _th_ _for I have the most wonderful of news. I shall not explain here in case the letter goes astray but I will hope that this letter reaches you in time._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Helen._


	11. Reunion

By the time the carriage pulled up outside the Magnus household, Nikola had read her letter three times, said about five words to James and come up with three rather half hearted excuses for why his waistcoat didn't match his suit. James for his part seemed to take it all in his stride, never losing his tiny smirk as Nikola tried to preen as discreetly as possible. Stepping out into the late summer afternoon, Nikola tugged uncomfortably on his jacket. It wasn't that he'd never been to her home before but, as inappropriate as it might seem, he'd never been there with her father, it was always just them.

"Don't worry," James said, clapping him on the shoulder with enough force to make Nikola start. "Gregory isn't half bad once you prove to him you've got no intention of bedding his dear Helen."

James winked conspiratorially before striding up the stairs and knocking firmly on the door, leaving Nikola spluttering on the sidewalk. Technically he didn't intend to bed Helen but winning her heart and then marrying her were rather frequent delusions he suffered.

Shaking his head, he ran a hand over his moustache before walking confidently up the stairs. Even if he wasn't feeling particularly confident, years of being forced to fight for himself in the academic arena Nikola knew how to fake it.

He reached James' side just as the door swung open to reveal the harried looking maid he vaguely remembered as Brigette. The girl's eyes widened as she took in the two men but soon enough a smile flitted over her lips and she stepped back to allow them entrance to cool foyer.

"Ah James!" Gregory Magnus exclaimed, stepping forward with a wide smile, arms thrown wide in greeting. "And this must be the man to whom Helen has been writing so frantically all summer."

Nikola nodded curtly at the lacking introduction, giving the other man what he hoped passed for a polite smile.

"She wrote to me too," James said easily, glossing over the tension in a way that made Nikola terribly grateful the man had befriended him so easily. "I hardly think she'd have had time to work with the number of letters I received."

Gregory laughed freely, obviously at ease with the other man but Nikola felt a tiny ball of tension grow within him. He'd thought he was the only one receiving such frequent letters from her.

"So," Gregory continued with a slightly warmer smile for Nikola than before, "how about a nip before we get down to business?"

James chuckled, hands in pockets, eyes twinkling in that way Nikola wished he could mimic but before he could accept or decline, the distinct sound of voluminous skirts and lace petticoats reached their ears.

"I hardly think alcohol will be conducive to this meeting father," Helen said as she descended the stairs, motherly smile in place as she looked down to her father.

"Now, now Helen, I never said you'd be excluded from such festivities, I merely thought it would be a good way for us all to get to know each other," Gregory replied, turning to smile at his only daughter. "Though I think with the amount you've told me of Tesla's work I know him just about as well as you."

Nikola had to fight a grin at his words, enjoying the way Helen rolled her eyes despite the slight blush that crept up her cheeks.

"Hardly," she scoffed, stopping by her father's elbow and pecking him on the cheek. "I've told you almost nothing of his work. He's my little secret."

James seemed perfectly at ease at the exchange, chuckling once more as Gregory shook his head. Helen simply smiled, a tiny bit smug as she made her way to James.

"It's wonderful to see you again," she said as she pecked him on the cheek. "Father was most lonely without your evening visits to keep him company."

Gregory grunted, brow furrowing as she bit her lip to keep from smiling.

"Did you not miss me too?" James asked fondly, one hand resting on her shoulder.

"Of course," she cried with a grin. "Father was most unpleasant without you, in fact I don't think I'll ever holiday with him again unless you agree to accompany us!"

"Helen," Gregory said in warning but she simply turned, flashing him a smile that Nikola knew would break lesser men than Gregory Magnus before moving quickly to greet Nikola.

"Nikola," she said warmly, her voice that little bit softer than before and she leant in, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"It's wonderful to see you again," he replied with a grin as she pulled back. He knew her father was watching them and he could just about feel James' inquisitive eyes following each movement of their bodies but for one glorious second there was nothing to Nikola but the beautiful woman before him. Her golden locks were piled up high on her head, the faintest touch of powder gracing her nose and the dark purple velvet dress she wore only served to highlight her golden complexion.

"You haven't a clue how much I missed you," she assured him with a broad smile before she stepped back to a more appropriate distance.

"Nikola," she said, placing a hand on his elbow. "May I introduce you to my father, Dr. Gregory Magnus."

"It's a pleasure to meet you properly Doctor," Nikola said, trying to keep his accent as light as possible as he extended his hand to the other man.

Gregory sized him up, running his eyes up and down his lanky frame before accepting the proffered hand, shaking it a little too firmly.

"I do believe you met at the Christmas party," James offered kindly. "Though that was so long ago and I think I kept Gregory engaged for most of the evening with talk of dissections."

"Nikola was kind enough to keep me company that night," Helen put forward eagerly as if her contribution would break the tension that flowed between her friend and her father. "It's how we met."

"We didn't know at the time but we have several classes together," Nikola continued with something he hoped resembled a smile. "Shortly after the new year Helen and I ran into each other outside a lecture hall."

Gregory stiffened at the use of her Christian name and while Nikola's heart stopped beating for a moment, he tried not to let it show. The last thing he needed was Gregory Magnus telling his daughter to stay away from him. He was certain it probably wouldn't work but if he was banned from the household, it would significantly cut down on the amount of time he'd be able to spend with Helen, something he'd not enjoy in the slightest.

"Now that's all out of the way," Helen said, voice shaking ever so slightly as she smiled at her father. "May I suggest we use the library?"

"Certainly," Gregory agreed. "But I have to ask, how much have you told Nikola?"

"Nothing," she said firmly, daring a glance back over her shoulder to give Nikola an apologetic smile. "He's been most patient with my continual secret keeping."

"You mean he knows nothing of your work?" James asked, a hint of incredulousness in his voice.

"She is right," Nikola piped up. "I've not been told a thing."

Gregory shot him a look as if to infer he wasn't to speak until spoken to but Nikola refused to be deterred.

"She has not betrayed your confidence."

He saw something flicker in Gregory's eye for a second before his cold glare melted somewhat into a gruff yet amiable frown. Helen gave him a peculiar look and his hands itched to pull her closer but before any of them could talk there was a knock at the door, interrupting Gregory as he began to usher them towards the library Helen had taken Nikola to on many occasions.

It was all a bit of a scuffle, Gregory and James darting forwards as a breathless looking footman stumbled through the door. Helen took a step forwards too but, with a quick look between Nikola and the commotion, she stepped back to stand by his side. They weren't touching, only the hem of her skirts brushing against his leg but still it was enough to make him dizzy.

"It's the Lord," the young man said. "He's had... a... uhm." He cast a nervous glance around the room, stopping briefly on Helen and Nikola before shooting Gregory and uncertain look.

"An episode?" James offered, brow creased in worry. The young man nodded before coughing, his face turning even more red.

Gregory turned back to Helen, his face set in a look of determination that Nikola had seen many times of Helen's face, the resemblance suddenly startling.

"Get me my kit," he ordered and Helen nodded, turning on her heel and hurrying down the corridor Nikola knew led to her father's office.

"I'm sorry Tesla," Gregory continued, walking over to him. "We'll have to do this another day. Something has come up."

"I understand," Nikola said stoically, not understanding even a little bit. Just then Helen returned, hair a little out of place and cheeks reddened with a large black case in hand.

"I packed an extra dose," she said quickly. "Just give me one moment and I'll grab my coat."

With that she turned, her goal of the stairs obvious but her father grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"Not this time Helen," he said as he took the case. "James and I are more than capable of handling this."

"But father!" she began in protest.

"Tesla, I assume you know where the drawing room is?" Gregory asked around Helen. Nikola nodded once, bowing his head slightly before striding down the corridor to give them privacy. He could hear Helen complaining, saying she was just as capable as James but Gregory cut her off, telling her that there'd be another time.

Honestly, Nikola had no idea what was going on, a medical emergency yes but there was something else going on too, he was certain of it. As he shut the drawing room door behind himself, he heard Helen's voice pitch in anger but despite every bone in his body telling him to rush to her side and back her, he walked to the door, contemplating the very strange relationship of father and daughter.

Until today he'd had very little opportunity to see them together in anything other than a public forum and, while the interactions were hardly typical, he had to admit they did reek of Helen. It seemed only natural that she have him wrapped around her little finger. She was his darling and Nikola could see it a mile off, the protectiveness radiating off him.

From where he now stood he couldn't hear anything except the dull click of the grandfather clock and the occasional murmur of voices. In truth, he didn't want to overhear the discussion, figuring Helen would either rant at him about it (something he did always enjoy if only for the fire it brought to her eyes) or she'd push it off entirely and sulk (less fun but then perhaps she'd be a little more receptive to a less than appropriate embrace or two) but the other part of him desperately wanted to know what had been so urgent that Helen had had James bring her over the day they arrived home. She wasn't wearing a travelling dress, he was certain of it but there was a gentle exhaustion in her features that told him she need a good night's sleep in a bed that was her own.

And while he was ecstatic to see her again, the summer having been far too long for his liking, Nikola almost wished they'd been able to meet again away from the eyes of her father and James. He'd have liked nothing better than to throw his arms around her, burying his face in her sweet smelling hair in an attempt to memorise the scent. Then something occurred to him. What if she didn't want a reunion like that? What if she'd thought better of her actions in the time they'd been apart? What if she'd asked her father to be there in the hopes of tempering his reaction?

Nikola watched, paralysed with fear as a carriage pulled away from the front of the town house, trundling down the road. Perhaps he ought to leave, head back to the foyer and make a quick getaway to avoid making Helen uncomfortable.

He continued to stare out the window, so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't hear the click of the door behind him, only the swish of skirts and thud of it closing once more managed to rouse him from his petrified musings but by then it was too late, the great mass of purple velvet all but hurling herself across the room and into his arms.

The force with which she wrapped her arms around him knocked the breath out of him but somehow his first reaction of wrapping his arms around the warm bundle was the right one, making her hum in contentment.

"I missed you," she whispered against his shoulder, tightening her grip around his middle as she snuggled closer to him, pressing her entire body to his.

"I missed you too," he replied, his voice a little strained with the effort of keeping from tugging her head back for a kiss. She stiffened in his arms for a moment before pulling away, eyes downcast as her cheeks burned a brilliant red.

"Sorry," she muttered, looking for the first time in their friendship as if she were ashamed of her actions. "I just... I..."

He saw her uncertainty and, knowing he was the cause of it, immediately stepped towards her, opening his arms and pulling her close once more.

"I missed you," he repeated as he held her gingerly. Half his mind was screaming at him, telling her to pull her closer while the other half was protesting at the human contact. Yes she was beautiful and delectable and everything that made his mouth water inside and out but she'd also just spent the past few weeks travelling, probably only bathing when the opportunity presented itself thus making her dirty. The side that arguing for more contact won out and he tugged her closer.

"You just winded me is all," he admitted in a whisper and she chuckled, laying her head on his shoulder as she wound her arms around his waist once more.

"As angry as I am at my father for refusing to bring us with him, it is wonderful to be able to be with you again."

Her soft words made his heart soar and all thoughts of her being unclean fell away. She was perfect.

They stayed like that for a few long moments, simply wrapped in each other's arms before Helen stiffened again, pulling back to give him a queer little look. She cocked her head slightly and her hands began to traverse his sides. Hitting his pocket she stopped, looking up at him and biting her lip shyly.

"Is this for me?" she asked softly, prodding the wad of letters he'd written for her. His answering smile was as timid as hers but he nodded, feeling like a child. She blushed a little before pulling back further and diving for his jacket. Pulling it back she made a face at him, obviously noting the mismatched waistcoat but before he could even think of his excuses her hands were struggling to find the inside pocket of his jacket. He threw his arms open wide, making things easier as he grinned.

"Some detective you are," he teased. "This jacket is hardly complicated."

"No," she retorted cheekily. "But clearly getting the right waistcoat is." It took her a few more minutes of scrambling before she pulled out the letters with a victorious smirk.

She smiled at him before grabbing his hand, dragging him to the nearest sofa and pulling him down so close to her that he was almost sitting on her lap. Carefully she placed the letters on her lap before pulling out a notebook from what must have been a very well hidden pocket. She set both items out before taking the first letter from the pile and, with a manoeuvre to get her even closer to Nikola's side, she began to read.

* * *

By the time she finished pouring over his letters and comparing them to her own notes, rain had started to fall in great sheets against the exposed windows that spanned most of one wall, creating a buffer of sound that made Nikola feel safe and secluded, as if they could stay there forever undisturbed. She'd barely shifted the entire time, only the occasional gurgle of laughter disrupting the comfortable silence. Once or twice she took his hand, fingers interlacing with his until she had no choice but to pull away to unfold the next letter.

Nikola listened in silence, unwilling to interrupt the tiny sighs she kept letting out. His eyes were glued to her face, drinking in each minute change or twitch as she read. His mind was working overtime to try and decipher each move though he had had to stifle a grin when she began mouthing the words.

"Nikola," she breathed softly, turning to face him as the last letter fell back to her lap. She gave him a warm smile, reaching for his hand once more.

"This is all terribly eloquent," she said with a peculiar little smile. Then she cocked an eyebrow and he knew what she was getting at.

Clearing his throat, Nikola tried to fight the rising heat in his cheeks.

"I... uh... may have used the dictionary," he allowed, not meeting her gaze as she rubbed a gently circle against the back of his hand with her thumb. "There were a few words I had trouble translating."

If truth be told, he'd spent hours perfecting each letter, labouring over word choices and turns of phrase until the words had ceased to have meaning for him.

"Would that have been 'translucent'?" she asked, a hint of a smile as she selected a letter from her lap.

He nodded, still looking down at their joined hands.

"You spent a very long time on these didn't you?" she asked, shifting closer and squeezing his fingers. "They're very beautiful," she said after a moment, her voice soft and when he looked up he was surprised to note she was looking down at their hands, her cheeks faintly pink.

"After all the effort you went to, I felt I should make them worth your while," he replied, his voice coming out thick. "I couldn't let all that anticipation be for nothing."

Helen chuckled before looking up to him with a grin.

"Very much worth it," she agree with a dazzling smile and he felt himself relax and, against his will, move that little bit closer to her.

"So," he said with a smile. "Tell me of your trip. Did you get lots of your mysterious work done or did you spend the entire time crafting my letters?"

She scoffed, rolling her eyes but smiled.

"It was fantastic," she admitted happily. "And I meant what I said. I would very much like to take you to visit Ashley one day."

Nikola laughed at how earnestly she spoke.

"I have a feeling your father might object to having me as a travelling companion," he said. "And if James were there it would be rather cramped."

"Oh don't be silly," she chastised, taking her hand back to swat at his knee. "My father will come to adore you as I do if he doesn't already."

"Now who is being silly?" he replied, carefully draping his arm along the back of the seat as he turned to face her properly.

"You mustn't be afraid of him Nikola, his bark is certainly far worse than his bite."

"None the less," Nikola said firmly. "The less of his bark I incur, the better."

"Well that may be a problem," she said with a sigh, standing up and walking to the window, her skirts swishing decadently.

"Helen?" he asked uncertainly, springing to his feet. He contemplated following her for a moment but as she began to fiddle with the wooden strut running across the window he refrained, content to watch her. Her head was bent, eyes trained on the elegant fingers that caressed the wood and her shoulders were ever so slightly hunched, making her look just a touch more vulnerable. Her dark purple dress made her hair shine in the dim light and looked terribly regal against her porcelain skin. The darkening street beyond the window made her look as if she came from some tragic fairytale, a forgotten princess to whom the world ought to be promised.

Just watching her made Nikola nervous, the thought that maybe he had caused her to seem this melancholy doing strange things to his stomach.

"Helen?" he asked again when she sighed though it was just a touch too heavy for him to think it entirely natural. She was playing some game and he was determined to find out which.

Slowly he walked to her side, taking up a position opposite her. For a moment he said nothing, looking out at the wet and grey street that signified a lot of England to him. His plan was to be patient, to make her show her hand first but soon enough curiosity got the better of him and he raised his gaze to look at her, startled to find her smiling widely at him, blue eyes twinkling with a mischief he was a little too familiar with.

The last time he'd seen that look, she'd kissed him in the sunshine and while he would be a fool to deny he was interested in a repeat performance, part of him wondered if he'd be able to contain himself. Since their last kiss, his every waking thought had been consumed by the lingering feel of her lips on his. In truth, a lot more than waking thoughts had been consumed thusly though he tried not to dwell on that, after all he did have every intention of being a gentleman until prompted otherwise.

"My father would like you to assist in our work," she said suddenly, her face lighting up with excitement as she took a step towards her.

"Pardon?"

"That's why I asked you here today," she explained, her hands moving a trite more than normal. "I've been trying to convince father of this for weeks and while we were in Cardiff he finally relented.  _That's_  why I was so excited in the letter."

Nikola's brow furrowed, still not comprehending what she was saying.

"I thought it was to remain a great secret to the general population for eons to come?" he asked, quoting the very words she had used one day in a fit of despair.

"You are not the general public," she replied with another grin, stepping even closer to him. "We want your help Nikola. I want your help."

He said nothing, his mind still reeling. To the best of his knowledge, whatever she and her father were engaged in was purely medical and his knowledge of the so called 'medical sciences' while being rather in-depth would undoubtedly not hold a candle to theirs.

"James has been involved for quite some time now," she continued. "And father was most insistent that John be inv-."

"John?" he echoed, snapping to attention.

"Mr. Druitt," she corrected, biting her lip as she gave him a small smile. "He and father get along quite well and although he's not studying science, the other night at dinner he had some very interesting ideas in regards to Mendel's work."

There was a pause and although he could see the light in her eyes, he could not focus on what she was offering him.

"You had dinner with Druitt?" he asked, working hard to keep his voice even and free of the disgust that was coursing though his veins. Of course, why this particular man made him feel this way was beyond him, after all he didn't react the same way to the thought of her and James spending time together but either way, his blood was close to boiling. Perhaps it had something to do with the gleam in her eye.

"Oh yes," she continued absently, waving a hand as she turned and headed back to the small sofa. "Father knows of his father and when we were on our way home the other night, they insisted that we spend the evening in their country house as opposed to holing ourselves up in another inn."

She stopped suddenly, turning to face him as her hands dropped to her sides. Cocking her head, she gave him a look that Nikola found all to piercing and he suddenly felt completely exposed. Then her bright blue gaze flicked to his face and her lips quirked into a smile.

"Are you jealous?" she asked with a little smirk, putting her hands on her hips.

"No," Nikola threw out immediately. "Of course not, why would I be jealous?"

Helen chuckled before sitting on the sofa, settling her skirts as she reclined into the corner.

"I'm not jealous," he said again, this time with a little more feeling. "I mean... I... I..."

Then she outright laughed, one hand flying to her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle her giggles but it was no use. Her eyes were dancing merrily, creased at the corners as he continued to fume. Of course he wasn't jealous, why would he be jealous of that... of that...  _krastača._

Finally stemming her mirth, Helen beckoned to him, patting the space next to her but he didn't move, trying to bring out the stoic and silent foreigner many believed him to be. Damnit! When did this charming little creature before him become the ruler of his emotions?

"Oh come on," she said, sounding exasperated as she rolled her eyes. "Please?" Her voice dipped on the word, becoming alarmingly soft and going straight to his heart.

With a heavy sigh Nikola stalked over to him, crushing himself into the furthest corner of the too small sofa.

Then it was Helen's turn to sigh before sidling towards him, taking his hand before he could occupy it with the handkerchief his other hand had grabbed.

"Niko," she said seriously, the new nickname forcing him to look at her. "You mustn't worry alright? You shall always be my very best boy."

Her face split into a grin on the last word and while he objected to the use of the term 'boy' he wouldn't very well argue with her.

Sighing once more, Nikola moved closer, taking both her hands in his despite the numerous germs he knew they could be sharing. Helen was more important than anything else to him at that point.

"So," he said finally as a way to distract himself of how close they now were. All it would take would be for him to lean forward and then their lips could meet once more. Just thinking about it made his entire body tingle, desperately urging him to move forward and capture those soft pink lips.

"So what?" she teased softly, cocking her head at him.

"So are you going to tell me what this work is?"

She bit her lip at that, looking away but he was pleased that she didn't relinquish his hands.

"I... Father wants me to wait," she admitted, a bitter edge tainting the softly spoken words. "That's what we were arguing about before he left."

"I'm sure we can find something to occupy ourselves with," he said, trying to comfort her. She smirked at him, obviously picking up on the slightly more sinister interpretation he'd allowed for.

For a moment neither said anything, Helen biting her lip as she studied their joined hands while Nikola let her think over whatever was troubling her so, simply praying it wasn't something that would get either of them into trouble with her father.

"Do you remember that talk we had after the lecture on inheritance patterns and genetic variance?" she asked coyly, keeping her head down.

"You maintained that the variance within a species would be endless," he recited, brow furrowing.

"And you said that there must be a point at which they can no longer be classified as part of the original species," she continued, raising her eyes and nodding. "Yes. Well, let's just say that it is a question which I shall continue to ask you to ask."

She smiled cryptically, eyes twinkling as Nikola tried to piece it together.

"Think on it," she insisted. "The first day of classes meet me under the tree by your favourite pond and tell me if you've figured it out."

"Tuesday?" he echoed, even more confused.

"I have an appointment with the seamstress," she admitted sadly. "If I don't leave now I'll be late and considering the state of many of my dresses I really cannot afford to delay this much longer."

"There's nothing wrong with your dresses," he insisted as she tried to stand.

"With the amount of chemicals I spilt in the last week of classes alone I almost need a new wardrobe," she told him. "Now up with you. I have a carriage to call."

He smirked as she fluffed her skirts and before he knew it the words were slipping from his lips.

"Mind if we share?"

She smirked in response, startling him beyond measure.

"Not in the slightest."


	12. That day in Autumn

Sitting up a little straighter and readjusting her skirts, Helen swept her gaze around the beautiful lawns that surrounded her. He wouldn't be here for at least another hour but she'd found it much too difficult to concentrate in the stuffy library, her mind constantly drifting back to the carriage ride she had shared with him a little under a week ago. She had hoped that the cooler air would help her to relax but still, as she sat beneath the old tree on a stone bench, she was no more capable of focusing on her book than she had been back in the library. All she could think of was the dangerous nature of carriages.

Sighing, she shifted uncomfortably, hating the way her stays kept digging in. Served her right for buying this particular dress, she thought sourly. Actually, it was Nikola's fault. Him and his silly comments that she favoured only the most dower of colours. Whether he'd forgotten the cream dress she'd worn on their picnic or was simply interested in goading her she wasn't sure but either way, this dress was now his fault in her mind.

And there she went again, not paying attention to the notes she'd taken on genetic variance but instead thinking only of him and that carriage ride. Perhaps if they'd seen each other since then she'd have an easier time of it but, as it was, all she could think of was the delightful trip from her home to the dress makers.

He'd be so polite, helping her into her cloak and then holding her hand as she ascended the stairs to the tiny carriage. He'd sat across from her, chatting away politely about her trip and what he had spent the weeks doing but instead of putting her at ease, Helen had felt the tension grow and grow and grow until finally the conversation had tapered off and they were left staring out the windows in silence.

She had so expected him to grab her the second they were in the carriage and ravage her with kisses much as he had done previously, in fact, she had hoped he would. After spending all those weeks without him and only the memory of the feel of his lips against hers she had wanted nothing more than to share a kiss since he arrived on her doorstep. Of course, James and her father and the tiny bead of uncertainty within her had kept her from acting on it but even when they had retired to the drawing room she found it hard to keep from pulling him in for a kiss.

It was strange, she mused, brushing an errant lock of hair away, that after spending the majority of her life without receiving any kisses that a single day in the company of her best friend and his kisses had turned her into a glutton for them. It was all she thought about some days and she was finding it terribly distracting. Even in the carriage she'd been hard pressed to draw her mind away from the possibility of stealing a kiss from Nikola.

The silence had prevailed for most of the trip and, although in reality it was a short one, it had felt like an eternity. A thousand silly idea had run through Helen's mind and while the most predominate one had involved shifting to his side of the small space and pulling him into a kiss, part of her had wondered if she was making a grave mistake. Travelling alone with a man wasn't the most intelligent of manoeuvres but her reputation meant little to her, leaving her more worried about what their separation may have done to Nikola's feelings for her.

What if he thought that their kisses had been a mistake? What if he'd decided he no longer desired her company? What if he'd only come to her father's home out of a sense of obligation as opposed to a desire to see her? She had kept thinking of his letters, of the sweet words and tender phrases and it had helped to calm her rapidly beating heart but still, the thought of not being able to indulge her newfound interest in kissing with probably the only man she could trust in such a way was daunting.

She had spent the better part of the trip listening to his small sighs, barely audible noises that she thought he probably wasn't aware of but each made her wonder if he was regretting his decision to join her.

It wasn't until they pulled up in the main street that he'd looked over at her again and she'd noted with a gasp the determined set of his jaw. He'd said nothing, simply sliding across the padded bench until their knees were touching. She could hear the driver getting down, preparing to open the door but the thought of moving away from Nikola never crossed her mind, regardless of how inappropriately close she was to him.

Then he'd reached for her, capturing her face between his hands as he leant forward until their lips finally met and her whole body had sagged. It was, without a doubt, the sweetest encounter of her life, the gentle sensation of his lips moving against hers making her feel far smaller and more feminine than she'd ever thought herself to be. He tasted of cinnamon and spice and smelt of citrus and as she rested her hand against his neck, she felt his rapid pulse, a perfect match for hers.

Too soon he pulled away, the only sound in the carriage being their combined heavy breaths. Resting his forehead against hers he had chuckled.

"Took you long enough," she muttered, unable to keep from grinning as he too laughed quietly before reaching for the door.

"Allow me to walk you to the dressmakers?" he asked, sounding somewhat nervous as he pulled back. She'd smiled, unable to keep the strange joy she was experiencing from bubbling out.

Together they'd clambered from the carriage and, as they'd hurried down the relatively deserted street, she'd clung to his arm and giggled. The umbrella he held over their heads helped to keep her safe from the rain and while her skirts were slowly becoming dotted with water and mud, she hadn't really minded.

Soon enough they'd been back to chatting like they always were, poking fun at one another and making ridiculous comments that anyone else would have thought to be highly inappropriate. He'd teased her for her lacking wardrobe and she'd pointed out his own rather repetitive style of dress.

When they finally made it to the dress makers, she was having a hard time controlling her laughter and found it even harder to pull herself away from him. The loss of his warmth by her side made her want to pout like a child and draw him back to her but somehow, using what could only be described as her father's willpower she'd managed to say goodbye without kissing him or insisting that he accompany her into the store.

Sighing once again, Helen dragged herself out of the revere to scan the manicured lawns. Today was important, it was the beginning of something and she couldn't afford to lose her focus.

People were milling about, chatting in the sunshine and enjoying the slightly cooler weather. Leaves were already starting to turn, dotting the still green lawns with specks of red, orange and yellow. She smiled as she realised it sort of matched her dress.

Smile still playing on her lips she returned her attention to the book in her lap. Nikola was bound to be ages away, no doubt he'd be able to resist seeing her for far longer than she could resist the reverse. That and she knew for a fact he had a class at that very moment. She, thankfully, had the afternoon free, her only lecture being Chemistry first thing in the morning. It had been rather dull for the most part, just as monotonous as usual with the exception of Nigel's company. He had been delightful, keeping her mind from Nikola if only for a few minutes.

They had chatted both before, after and, to some extent during the class. He'd been excited about the day ahead and, when they'd parted company he'd clasped her hand warmly, and expressed his pleasure at being able to call her a friend. She'd blushed momentarily but then he was gone, hurrying off to another class as she headed for the library, content to spend the next few hours studying. Of course, that hadn't quite gone to plan.

Rereading the same passage for the fourth time Helen wondered at the distraction Nigel had provided himself to be, quite effectively turning her thoughts from Nikola for the duration of their class. She also noted with some interest that, as much interest as she had in exploring the art of kissing with Nikola, the same could not be said of Nigel. It wasn't that she found him repulsive, he was a pleasant enough man both inside and out but the urge to taste him was most certainly not there.

With James it was much the same, he was lovely and affable and if he smiled at her in just the right way she knew she'd blush and go a little weak in the knees but stolen moments in carriages with the good Doctor didn't occupy her thoughts. John was... a little different, she acknowledged uncertainly. Like James, the right look or smile from him did things that were wholly unmentionable to her insides but she was able to identify that emotion as lust, something she'd come across from time to time but, for the most part, been able to brush aside. Some days even Nikola could arouse such a reaction from her but all of that was chemical, she understood that.

But John...

He was, if she was perfectly honest, the very example of a dark and mysterious man. Where James was light and approachable, John had an edge to him that spoke of something else. Of course, she'd found him to be very sweet and kind but there was a part of her that very much responded to his decidedly mysterious side.

Though his kisses didn't occupy her mind either. The idea of exploring kissing and the sensations it entailed only sprung to mind when she thought of one man, Nikola. It was a good thing she adored him so very much, she realised with a small smile, because if she didn't care for him and his company, part of her would have been sorely tempted to refuse to see him. The amount of time she spent contemplating their encounters was bordering on ridiculous and, to the rest of the world she knew quite scandalous.

The thought that there was anything but a strong friendship between her and Nikola made her giggle though and it was with some effort that she managed to stifle her outburst, as baseless as it would seem to anyone else.

Looking up once more with a wistful smile, Helen sighed though this time it was less melancholy and impatient. Somehow Nikola, for all his ability to annoy her, made her smile. There was something about her enigmatic foreigner that, regardless of her mood made her smile.

"Helen!"

She looked up at the sound of his voice, on her feet in a second as she locked eyes with Nikola. He was hurrying towards her, a bright smile on his face. Before she knew what she was doing, she took a step forward, unable to keep from smiling. But then he tripped, the books under his arm becoming the only barrier between him and the hard ground.

"Nikola," she breathed, eyes widening before she was hurrying over to him. She dropped to her knees by his side, helping him to sit up with flighty hands. It seemed as if all her medical training flew out the window at the prospect of him being hurt, only the urge to help remaining.

"I'm fine," he grumbled, his accent growing thicker as his eyes darkened. Helen could hear the titter of laughter behind them but ignored it, more concerned with the way Nikola was mumbling in Serbian under his breath.

"Niko," she started softly, reaching out to place her hand on his cheek. It was a far too open gesture and they were in a far too public a place but the way his entire face soften at the contact made Helen pleased that she'd done it.

"Really, I'm fine," he insisted, his voice far more convincing as he captured her hand, pulling it away from his cheek with a warning glance around them. The corner of her mouth twitched up in acknowledgement and, together they stood, gathering his books before heading over to the tree she had been sitting beside just a few moments earlier.

Setting the books down, Helen ushered Nikola into a seat before sitting as close as she could without causing a scene.

"Are you sure you're alright?" she asked softly, her training kicking back in as she grabbed his chin, checking him for any signs of concussion.

"Yes," he whined, batting away her hand as he pulled a face. Chuckling she sat back slightly, accepting the self diagnosis. "Though it is entirely your fault that I made such a fool of myself."

"Me?" she asked incredulously. "How am I to blame for your inability to walk on a flat surface?"

"Firstly, that  _man_  stuck his foot out to catch mine which is why I fell," he replied, narrowing his eyes at her. "And secondly, if I hadn't been so shocked by your rather startling dress I'd have been paying enough attention to have avoided that slip."

Letting out a little cry of indignation she leant back and gave him a small glare.

"Excuse me for trying to disprove your theory that I dress like a widow," she retorted as a smirk threatened to mar her glare.

Suddenly Nikola's expression softened and he shifted ever so slightly closer to her on the bench, his fingertips brushing against hers behind the stack of books between them.

"It suits you," he said with a tiny smile and she was pleased when he struggled to maintain eye contact.

"And the hat?" she pressed, suppressing a laugh at his apparent shock that she was even wearing a hat. It was a strange little contraption, a little out of fashion and hardly large enough to shield anything more than her scalp from the sun but it was fun and the trim suited the dress perfectly.

"Fetching," he said after a brief inspection, his eyes falling back down to where the rich crimson fabric was lined with crimson silk.

"The shoes match too," she continued, pointing her leg until the hem of her dress fell back to reveal the tip of her shoe.

He appeared to grunt, his eyes dropping down to her toes for a moment before they slid slowly up her body and finally he looked her in the eye, something she'd never before seen on his face.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, swallowing heavily. "It's just that... well, the red looks lovely on you but I am simply not used to it."

Helen chuckled smugly.

"That was the entire point Nikola," she chastised. "You were the one who suggested I needed more life in wardrobe."

"It is not a statement I will ever regret," he said adamantly, a smile playing with his lips. "After all, now I have had the chance to see you in  _this_."

At that she almost blushed, ducking her head to look down at where their fingers were still entwined behind the books.

"Your hair looks nice too," he offered after a beat and she had the sneaking suspicion he was only saying it of obligation to pay her a compliment.

"Truly?" she asked, wrinkling her nose. "I think I prefer it when Brigette sets it in smaller curls."

"No no," he insisted, reaching with his free hand to brush a large curl from where it had come to rest on her collar bone. She shivered as his thumb brush against her neck in almost the same place he'd left that tiny mark all those weeks ago. "This suits you much better."

"Oh yes," she replied, rolling her eyes. "Because you are such an expert on women's hair."

"Of course not," he scoffed. "But I do know that I prefer you like this, it is more... more..."

"Would you like me to get you a dictionary?" she teased and he shot her a sour look.

"It is more you, more Helen."

She snorted at that and he sighed.

"It is more dignified, more beautiful, more lovely and far more soft," he quantified, eyes drifting to the small curl that she could feel had come loose by her ear. He looked very much as if he wanted to push it back but, knowing how dangerous such an action could be, she beat him to it, pressing the curl back up and under the hat she wore.

He gave her a wistful look and Helen smiled.

"We have a lunch date, remember?" she prompted, gathering up his books. "And I have a surprise for you."

"Does that surprise involve a carriage?" he asked quietly, his voice barely more than a rough whisper as he took the books back and she coughed before shooting him a dark look. He merely grinned in response.

"No Nikola."

"A private picnic then?" he guessed as they stood and she lead the way towards his dormitory.

"No Nikola."

"Perhaps we are going to dine solely on cherries then," he teased. "Though I have to tell you there are no cherries in my rooms."

"You are going to go put your books back," she said, fighting a grin. "Then we shall go to lunch."

"That is hardly a surprise," he said, shaking his head. "It is Tuesday and on Tuesday's we have lunch. I know your time table has changed, as has mine but I assumed you suggested we meet at this time because it was a date you could keep."

A note of uncertainty crept into his voice by the end and Helen had the strongest urge to take his hand.

"Sadly I cannot," she said. "Though I am free Monday's for lunch and Friday's for afternoon tea if you can make it."

"Of course!" he replied enthusiastically and she couldn't help but smile. "But surely that isn't the surprise?"

"No no, of course not," she agreed readily.

Silence fell over them as they continued to walk towards his building.

"Are you going to tell me or shall I continue guessing?" he said after a moment, a hint of humour colouring his curiosity.

"Don't be mad," she said warningly.

"Helen," he said, drawing out her name. "What have you done?"

"Just please play nice," she insisted, turning and touching a hand to his arm to stop him. "For me?"

"Alright, now I'm scared," he admitted, looking about as he stepped closer to her. "What is the matter Helen?"

"We aren't having lunch alone," she admitted quickly, frowning as he pouted. "And afterwards my father has extended an invitation for you, for all of you to return with me to our home."

"Who?" he asked sulkily and Helen had to fight the urge to call him a child.

"James and Mr. Griffin," she began carefully not meeting his eye.

"Nigel?" he queried and she nodded.

"And Mr. Druitt."

She risked a glance up to him, unsurprised at the dark look in his eye.

"Oh please play nice Nikola," she said hurriedly, gripping his arm tightly. "They are all perfectly wonderful company and I'm certain that if you give them a chance you will all get along swimmingly."

"That's not it," he said with a heavy sigh, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "I was... I was rather looking forward to having you to myself for the afternoon. It has been far too long since we have had a proper chance to talk and..."

"And what?" she prompted softly.

"And... andImissyoualright?"

"I miss you too," she said tenderly with a smile. "But it's one lunch."

"And a meeting with your father," he corrected.

"A dinner with father," she corrected. "But if you promise to stop acting like a child I'll sit with you at dinner."

"Mean," he accused, narrowing his eyes before looking around the abandoned area they were standing in. "Though I can think of one thing I'll happily take in compensation for having to share you."

She cocked her head, watching as a smile spread across his features. Nikola stepped back from her and, with great care placed his books on the ground. Straightening up he looked around once more before stepping back to her, closer than before.

She gasped at the newfound closeness and her eyes widened as his hands landed on her shoulders, steadying her before he cupped her cheek.

"I want both lunch on Monday's and afternoon tea on Friday's," he whispered with a smirk. "Plus as many cups of tea as you can fit in your busy schedule, understand?"

"Certainly Nikola," she agreed quietly. "But wha-."

While normally Helen didn't enjoy being interrupted, she decided very quickly that interruptions in the form of Nikola's lips upon her own were more than welcome. She caught on quickly, fisting one hand in his jacket as the other landed on his shoulder. This kiss was not gentle and lingering like that of their second carriage ride, instead the insistent and heated press of his lips and tongue against her own reminded her more of the fiery leaves of Autumn that were only just beginning to fall.

Then he growled against her lips, hands grabbing her waist and dragging her roughly to press against his chest and she gasped, allowing him the opportunity he had apparently been looking for and soon enough she found their tongues to be dancing together in a way she'd never before contemplated.

Moaning she held him tighter, enjoying the new facet of kissing they had just discovered far too much considering where they were but she couldn't stop, more interested in finding a way to exist without the oxygen her lungs were screaming for.

Finally, when she thought she could take no more he pulled back, allowing her to gasp down some much need air. Slowly he pulled himself away, each inch of distance between them making her body yearn for him even more. When he was finally an appropriate distance away, he turned and swiped up his books, tucking them under one arm before offering her the other.

"We best hurry or we'll be late for lunch," he said, his voice huskier than normal but all Helen could do was nod and clutch his arm tightly in fear that her legs would give out.

And just like that, Helen began to dislike lunch greatly.


	13. And so it begins

By the time they arrived, the others were all seated around a large table in the centre of the restaurant, causing something of a ruckus when they all stood at Helen's arrival.

"Sit, sit," she ushered, allowing Nikola to pull back a seat for her. James was the quickest to comply, sinking down into his chair easily with a smile for the new comers. It was only after a stern look that the others followed suit, reseating themselves silently.

Before anyone could do much more than offer a greeting a waiter appeared, providing tea for all of them. Taking a deep sip and dismissing the man with a smile, Helen steeled herself. While her brief moments with Nikola had been highly enjoyable to say the least, today had a purpose. Today was the beginning of something new and important and she had to focus. If this didn't go well her plans would all be for naught. And she'd have to explain to her father why the grand scheme she'd designed that he'd always been sceptical about had failed, something she was not eager to do.

"Thank you all for coming," she said, hoping her voice betrayed not hint of either nerves of excitement. "But before we begin, I'd like to make some things clear."

She looked around the table, into each of the men's eyes, assessing carefully what she saw. James, sitting across from her was smiling subtly, the eternal hint of mirth not gone from his gaze as he waited for what he knew was coming. Nigel, to his right sat up straight, keen concentration marring his usually cheerful smile. Next was Nikola who was gazing at her with a look that almost made her shiver. He was curious, she could tell but there was something burning in his gaze that reminded her of their very public yet thankfully unseen encounter on the way to his dormitory. John, on the other hand, was passively observing her; the cool gaze almost unsettling in its contrast to Nikola's heated one.

Part of her wondered why Nikola, such a calculating man when it came to his work and studies was able to look at her with such fire when John, a passionate lawyer and debater on nearly every topic could appear so removed and refined. John was, as always, the perfect English gentlemen with dark, brooding looks and a smile that made her body shiver while Nikola was the eclectic foreigner, full of vim and vigour and ludicrous ideas that were only stemmed by his sometimes indecipherable accent.

"Firstly," she began, shaking off the comparisons of the men who sat on either side of her. "Regardless of whether or not you decided to accept the offer I shall present to you this evening, I ask for your complete discretion. If you chose to walk away I shall not hold it against you though I will ask that you keep your mouth shut in regards to my and my father's work."

James' mouth quirked and he bobbed his head once. Nigel cocked his head but smiled in agreement. Nikola's brow furrowed and he pursed his lips but John did nothing, still watching her as if she were some great mystery to unravel.

"I mean it gentlemen," she insisted, looking to John. "The choice is yours and yours alone but I'll not have you compromise our work."

"Are we to utilise blind faith?" John asked, his voice cool. "Are we to simply agree to this condition without an explanation?"

"Do you really think she would ask it of you if it were that dangerous?" Nikola scoffed, leaning around Helen to give John a displeased look. "Or is it simply that you do not take Helen's word that your decision to walk away will be accepted?"

"Nikola," Helen said warningly, looking towards her friend with a light glare. While his queries were valid, she couldn't have them fighting so early into what she hoped would be a lasting partnership.

"I promise this is no slight against you Miss Magnus," John said with a small smile. "It is only that the concept of questioning is in my nature and I cannot resist it when you give us such tantalizingly slim pieces of information as to why we are here."

The way he said 'tantalizingly' made Helen's breath hitch but she kept her nerve, looking him straight in the eye.

"Helen," she insisted. "And you are right John, I have given you all very little information in regards to what I shall be asking of you and, in return am asking for your complete trust but you shall simply have to make you choice based on what I have told you."

Her voice thankfully held firm and, as she turned back to the group, she couldn't help the tiny smile of pride that lifted the edges of her lips. John was an imposing figure to be sure and the fact that her voice hadn't wavered made her heart swell.

"Do I take the silence as acceptance?" she asked, pleased that James at least tried to stifle his chuckle. Nigel grinned, nodding before taking a sip of tea and while Nikola pouted, she noted his nod and moved on, waiting for John. James was not a concern, he already knew and was on board having been involved with her father's work for a time already but it was this last nod that she truly needed. The four men before her had been had picked not only for their minds but also because Helen was sure that they would complement each other, each making up for another's 'weakness' though she didn't like to use the word. They were brilliant men, bright minds and good human beings who she was almost certain wouldn't let her down and John was no exception.

He regarded her for a moment, eyes boring into hers as he propped his chin up with one hand. Then he smiled, eyes crinkling and all coldness was lost. He nodded before taking his tea and sipping quietly.

"Good," she said, unable to keep the smile from her face. "Now that that is settled, I have one more thing to ask of you all before we can enjoy our meal together."

Taking a deep breath, she looked to James, the worst culprit by far.

"I am a scientist," she said firmly. "Just as the rest of you are and I ask that you afford me the same respect you would any other of our peers." Out of the corner of her eye she saw Nikola react, what was no doubt a promise that he held her in higher esteem than many of their peers but that was not her point and she raised her hand, silencing him.

"Do not treat me any differently because I am unlucky enough to be thrust into a whalebone corset every morning. I am a woman yes, but I'll not have my gender act as a barrier between you treating me as an equal and nor will I allow it to influence how you do or do not act in my presence."

James was openly frowning at her, eyes dark with displeasure.

"And yes James, I am perfectly serious so stop glaring at me in a manner that reminds me of my father," she continued primly.

"Druitt is not a scientist," Nikola observed after a beat. "Does that mean we do not have to afford him respect?"

Everyone, Helen included, turned to him, eyes wide with shock.

"What?" he asked with a shrug. "It's true, he is not!"

"While John may not be studying sciences," Helen began, just about ready to drag Nikola from the restaurant and berate him for embarrassing her so thoroughly, "he is not only learned in many scientific principles but his understanding of ethical and moral issues provide a brilliant counterpoint to the scientific thinking of the rest of us. Now if you cannot see the benefit in having a vast and varied knowledge on hand I do not understand-."

"That is not what I was saying," he said, cutting her off with a furrowed brow. "I was simply pointing out that asking us to treat you as anything less than the woman and dear friend you are is an insult not only to our honour but to you. It would be the same as us treating Druitt as an outcast because of his lack of scientific background."

"He's quite right," Nigel piped up and James grinned.  _Traitors_. "You can't rightly expect us to belittle you like we would any other scientist."

"We all like you far too much for that," James put in, leaning back with a victorious smirk. Even John looked pleased, a tiny smile on his lips. Turning to Nikola, Helen narrowed her eyes, hoping he'd understand that he would be hearing about this later. He was supposed to be her friend and ally in this; after all he always spoke of how she deserved to be treated as an equal within the university.

"You are more than a scientist Helen, you are out friend," John said softly, giving her a look that threatened to make her heart beat much too fast. "I for one will certainly not treat you as I would anyone other scientist."

"Quite frankly I'm insulted you think so little of us," Nikola quipped, smirking as he looked fondly around the group.

Sighing, Helen realised her defeat and sagged a little in her chair. While they had a point, her dreams of an equal working relationship with these men hinged on them not opening doors for her.

"Will you at least agree to avoid standing every time I approach?" she asked with an imploring look.

"So demanding," James teased with a chuckle; eyes twinkling and Helen couldn't help but smile back.

"James, you know my father," she chastised, taking a sip of her now cool tea. "Did you really expect anything different?"

Nikola chuckled by her side and she cast him an affectionate glance, all previous animosity gone. She never could stay mad at him for long.

From there the conversation evolved smoothly and by the time their meals arrived they were all chatting amiably. Nikola and Nigel were comparing horror stories of professors who they believed had no idea of what they taught while John and James were discussing the merits of religious education at universities. Sitting back, Helen couldn't help but admire her handy work. She was right, they all suited each other perfectly and, more than that, she could see them becoming friends which would no doubt aid the working relationship.

It was risky, yes, but she was almost certain that when her father invited them down into the bowels of their home tonight to witness what many would describe as terrifying each of the men before her would stare wide-eyed in amazement before accepting the job wholeheartedly. Of course, the work her father required of them was only the tip of the iceberg, she had much grander plans than the simple collections and cataloguing her father was interested in.

Part of her wondered if she should tell them how demanding it would be, of how dangerous it could be. Surely they deserved to know that. James, of course, was already far too involved to back out now and had shown time and time again that he was no frightened by their work but the others had no idea. Nigel was brilliant yes and, from what she could tell, relatively fearless as was John but she was certain they'd get caught up in the wonder of it all without truly understanding the commitment it required.

Nikola, on the other hand, would say yes for two very distinct reasons; for her and for the prospect of being a part of something. He was her closest friend as she was his, there was very little they didn't share and the fact that she'd kept this from him for such a long time she was certain would make him pout, all but forcing him to accept so as to remove what few barriers there were between them. And she knew, as close as they were, Nikola needed to feel included in something, much the same as she did. They were both outsiders in this environment, she for her gender and he for his rather eclectic ideas and brutish manner. The others were all British born and bred, the effects of which were unmistakable in their every word or move. They belonged here, at Oxford and in the scientific community and while Nikola's mind certainly meant he had the smarts for such circles, his lack of 'proper' manners and inability to bite his tongue when mad left him ostracised and looked down upon by many of their peers. He would accept, she was certain of it but part of her wished he wouldn't if only so that her friend would be safe from harm.

"Why so glum?" a low voice asked and Helen started eyes wide as she turned to a now grinning Nikola. "Is the chicken really that bad?"

She smiled and relaxed somewhat, resisting the urge to reach out and take his hand.

"I'm fine," she replied easily. "I was simply thinking about this evening."

"The mysterious meeting with your father," he joked, hand dropping from the table to his lap and, unable to stop herself, Helen reached for his hand, entwining their fingers and dropping their hands between them. He looked startled for a moment but then smiled, giving her hand a quick squeeze. She looked around, pleased that no one had noticed their exchange as innocent as it might be.

"Now tell me," he insisted, "what is the matter?"

"Nothing, truly," she replied with a smile, using her free hand to spear a piece of chicken. "I just... I'm just pleased that this is all turning out so well."

Nikola narrowed his eyes at her, pursing his lips for a moment before sighing.

"This means something special to you, doesn't it?" he asked, voice barely audible as he gestured to the others.

She smiled.

"Soon enough you will understand Nikola, I promise."

"I certainly hope so," he retorted with a smile. "Or else I might be forced to pry the information out of you by any means necessary."

"Naturally," she replied, rolling her eyes. "Though I hardly think you'd be successful."

"Are you underestimating me Miss Magnus?" he cried with a grin and she chucked, turning away from him as she resettled herself in her seat.

"No Niko, you are underestimating me."

It was only at that point that she realised that the others had ceased their conversations and were watching the exchange with faint smiles.

"Don't look so peculiar James," Helen chastised, taking another bite of her salad. "You know the old adage about changing wind, don't you?"

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you two were siblings," James said with a smile, ignoring her comment.

"You do know you look remarkably like my father when you cock your head like that, don't you?" she continued with a smile. "I think of anyone at this table, it is you and I who could be mistaken for siblings."

"You both take your tea the same way," Nigel piped up with a grin.

"And they both do that thing with their chin when they're thinking," Nikola agreed with a grin.

"Sadly I think the hair will give them away," John put in, giving Helen a warm smile. "No offence old chap she's far too beautiful to be your sister."

Helen blushed, Nikola appeared to fume, Nigel chuckled and James narrowed his eyes.

"I'd be careful with comments like that John," James replied, his tone friendly but eyes conveying a warning Helen didn't understand. "We wouldn't want Gregory thinking you had any ideas that involved stealing her away."

"Plus we can't have you taking our fearless leader from us," Nigel added, giving Helen a smile. John opened his mouth as if to continue but Helen cut him off, raising a hand.

"Enough," she said firmly, giving James a questioning look. "Not only am I present and more than able to answer for myself but this is exactly the kind of thing I refuse to tolerate if this partnership is going to work!"

Silence fell over the table and she was pleased when they all at least appeared somewhat sheepish. Comments on her appearance, whilst not uncommon, almost always made Helen feel unworthy of such praise. Sure she liked her hair and, in the right light her eyes were rather pretty but she knew she was plain. There were many others out there who were more attractive than her inside and out.

"I fail to see why we should be punished for your beauty," Nikola muttered, looking down at his lunch with a pout. Nigel sniggered but covered it with a cough while James and John shared a look that told her she'd been the source of at least one conversation between them. She was just about to turn to Nikola and chastise him for his comment when the clip of heels approaching their table caught her attention, forcing her to drop Nikola's hand beneath the table.

"Well well, what do we have here?" a snide little voice asked, chuckling slightly as the occupants of the table all turned to look at the new arrival.

"Worth," James all but spat, his voice cold as the small man smiled down at them.

"Ah now James, surely we're good enough friends that you can call me Adam?" he asked with a faintly disturbing smile for each of them, his eyes lingering on Helen questioningly. "Though I don't think I've met the lady. Worth, Adam Worth," he said, reaching a hand out to her which Helen shook quickly before settling back in her chair. Something about the man was more than a little disturbing.

"Helen Magnus," she replied, almost slinking back into Nikola for protection. It was silly, she knew to be so apprehensive of a man she'd only just met but watching at how the other's around he bristled at his appearance set her on edge and made her want to take her friends hand again.

"Is there something you want Adam?" Nigel asked after a moment of silence.

"I'm not interrupting, am I?" Worth asked, eyes lighting up in a way that made Helen think he wished he had.

"Not at all," John replied smoothly, his voice menacing in its coolness.

"Perhaps I could join you then?" he asked eagerly, stepping closer and gesturing to their half eaten meals.

"This is a private meeting Worth," Nikola barked from beside, startling Helen somewhat.

Worth's face darkened at the admission.

"Of course, the fantastic five cannot be troubled to include a fellow academic when it comes to a simple lunch," he hissed, glancing around as if asking them to defy his words.

"Regardless," Helen said, cutting him off before he could stalk away. "We were just about to leave." With that she stood the other's following suit.

"It was lovely to meet you Mr. Worth," she said, holding a hand out to him. He looked genuinely surprised at the gesture but took her hand regardless, brushing his lips across her finger tips. With an uneasy smile for the man she turned, leading them towards the exit. She nodded to a waiter, signalling that the bill should be added to her father's tab before taking her coat and hat, not waiting for anyone to hold the door open and stepping out into the cool afternoon sun.

Moments later the others joined her, James congratulating her for ridding them of Worth.

"He is a most peculiar man," she allowed, brows furrowing as Nikola offered her his arm. Together the five of them set of, walking back towards the campus.

"He is like his experiments," Nikola said darkly. "Malformed."

"Too right," Nigel agreed readily. "He has the most ridiculous of ideas and cannot stand it when someone brings him to question for them."

"I've heard the most horrendous rumours of some of his experiments, off the books, of course," John put in uneasily.

"He is completely without regard when it comes to the most basic of ethical principles," James said quietly, drawing Helen's attention. The man was loathe to criticise anyone, rarely saying something so unkind and it told her just how much he distrusted the man. Clearly she was right to walk away from the peculiar man.

"Though you have to admit he does have his uses," Nikola said suddenly, much to everyone's surprise. "He gave us a name," he said by way of explanation. "The Five."

Helen laughed softly squeezing the arm she held.

"Do not get ahead of yourself Nikola, you haven't yet been told what I am asking of you," she chastised with a smile.

"But it does have a nice ring to it," Nigel said with a grin.

"And I think it's sufficiently mysterious to fit with today's theme of hidden motives and unexplained requests," John allowed, giving her a smile.

"I think it would be prudent to hold off on toasting to it though, at least until you all have a better understanding of what we're to be doing," she continued, earning herself a sigh from Nikola though the other's all nodded in acceptance.

Smiling, she came to a stop, gesturing for the others to gather around somewhat.

"I do apologise for having to cut our lunch so short," she said, looking around at the men. "But I shall see you all at 6pm sharp, yes?"

Murmurs of agreement sounded and she smiled.

"In that case, I'd best let you all go; no doubt you have far more interesting things to do than hole yourselves up in the library with me."

James chuckled but nodded.

"Do you need someone to walk you back to campus?" he asked. "I'm happy to make the detour."

"No, no," she said, waving him off. "Nikola and I have some notes to compare on an experiment we've been conducting," she continued, giving him a tiny smile, hoping he understood just that she was getting at. Confusion flashed briefly over his face before he nodded.

"She is right," he said. "We've much to discuss."

"As fascinating as that sounds," Nigel said with a grin, "I'll leave you two to it. Druitt? Feel like coming to the pub? I think we'll be in need of a stiff drink before facing whatever it is that's lurking in the Magnus household."

"Certainly," John replied with a laugh, clapping the shorter man on the shoulder and James chuckled, giving Helen a knowing look.

"Until tonight then?" she declared with a smile and the others all nodded. One by one they said their goodbyes, wandering off until only Helen and Nikola stood on the street.

"Not that I object but what on earth were you on about before?" he asked, taking her arm as they walked towards the university campus.

"The experiment?" she clarified. "Or are you asking after this evening's activity?"

"Both," Nikola tried hopefully, giving her a grin.

"Well, in terms of your second query, I do believe I gave you a hint not so long ago," she said, keeping her eyes on the ground. "I kept meaning to ask if you figured it out?"

Nikola sighed.

"You can't possibly mean what I think you meant Helen," he said quietly, looking to the ground too.

"The beauty of it is that I most probably do," she replied with a small smile looking over to him.

Nikola paused for a moment, opening his mouth as if intending to continue with the line of questioning before shutting it and shaking his head.

"Experiment?" he asked, giving her an uncertain look.

"You... you said you wished to spend the afternoon together," she said softly, looking down again only to be forced to raise her gaze when he started tugging her along faster and faster.

"Nikola!" she cried in alarm. "Where are we going?"

"To my room to grab some wine," he said eagerly. "And then to the abandoned laboratory overlooking the court yard. It locks from the inside and the view is sublime."

At that Helen laughed but sped up none the less, eager to make the most of what little time they would have to themselves.


	14. Talking it out

And here you go, another little nugget of fun. Less flirting here, mostly just setting up The Five but the next chapter should be action packed. And I actually have a pretty, colour coded timeline for this now (gotta love excel spreadsheets) so it's kinda planned out right up until the turn of the century!

Also, I don't own a certain reference some people might find in here. Just terribly unimaginative and love the name to bits :P Tell me if you get it and I'll love you forever!

xx

"Wow," Nikola breathed, eyes still wide and Helen couldn't help but giggle as he took another hearty sip of brandy. "Wow."

"So I take it you'll help me? Help us with our work?" she asked with a smile.

Nikola nodded vehemently before choking on his brandy.

"Deep breaths Nikola," she said softly, placing her hand on his knee as he spluttered for a moment. Flicking her eyes around the room, she breathed a sigh of relief that James and John were still both deep in conversation. As if on cue, James looked up, giving her a small smile of reassurance. For as much as she was the one at the helm of this new prospect, having James as an ally when the others first found out put her at ease.

They had, in all honesty, taken it very well despite the anticipation her father had built up over what had been a mostly silent dinner. Fulfilling her early promise, Helen had sat by Nikola's side, trying her very best not to take his hand beneath the table. Even after the lovely afternoon they'd spent practicing their kisses in the abandoned laboratory on campus, the overwhelming urge to fiddle with his long, elegant fingers was still there. They'd spent a good hour simply holding hands during the afternoon and she'd started to miss the peace and security the gesture offered.

Her father had shot them both many strange looks over the course of the meal, mostly because of Helen's inability to keep from giggling every time their feet met beneath the table but James had chuckled too, finding Nikola's discomfort at her affection somehow humorous. Other than that dinner had been a rather silent affair, John and Nigel sharing confused and somewhat expectant looks as her father smirked at the head of the table. Of course, polite conversation was somehow maintained, their discussions encompassing everything from their respective classes to brief tidbits of her father's work. Of course, that had been when Nikola had finally gotten up the nerve to ask after why they were here.

Everyone had fallen silent as he dared to question her father but the older man simply chuckled, leaning back and assuring them all that the answers they were seeking would be presented soon enough. Nikola had looked like he was about to protest but Helen, unwilling to see it escalate any further had quickly grabbed Nikola's hand beneath the table and she'd watched with a smile as he'd relaxed.

It was only minutes later that the table was cleared and her father had asked them all to follow him down to the basement. Helen had hung back, watching as her boys slowly descended down the tiny stair case hidden in the back corner of the most disused sitting room in the entire house. She'd watched the wonder, the disbelief, the fear play out across each of their faces as her father had explained it all to them. James quickly moved to her side, giving her a small smile as they went further in. Bit by bit the work was laid out before them and Helen had almost laughed when they were shown the human squid, asleep in its tank, Nikola's comically wide eyes far more amusing when he turned and tried to glare at her. All in all though, Nigel, John and Nikola had taken it exceptionally well, none of them using the 'm' word she abhorred. In fact, aside from jumping a little when the Raxacoricofallapatorius growled, they were all terribly calm.

"Don't worry, she's harmless," Helen had said softly, pushing the others aside so that she could lay her hand on the glass door that separated them from the lush habitat they'd created for her in an attempt to calm the creature.

"Her?" Nigel had echoed sceptically, looking to the small green creature that was nuzzling the glass.

"Yes, we found her a few weeks back," her father had put in. "Perfectly docile of course, unless she takes a fancy to your cologne. Then she's likely to try and eat you alive."

"If she's so docile, why is she in there?" John had asked softly, eyes not straying from the creature.

"She prefers a warmer climate," Helen had explained with a smile for the creature. "We found her in Wales and, even at the best of times, it was too cold for her. We actually had to transport the poor thing swaddled in blankets to keep it from freezing."

"Actually," she had added, turning to flash Nikola a smile. "I was wondering if you might be able to work with Nigel on creating a more efficient way to heat the enclosure."

"Cer-certainly," Nikola had whispered in awe, moving forwards until he was crouching beside her. The Raxacoricofallapatorius cocked its head, watching him with curiosity before it slowly reached up and placed its webbed paw up on the glass. With a soft chuckle, Nikola had reached out and placed his hand on the glass too.

"I told you she was harmless," she'd said gently, nudging Nikola's shoulder before she realised just how the gesture might look to her father who was standing behind them.

From there, things had gone well, a basic tour of the facilities was given as well as an introduction to some of the more dangerous creatures and no one had fainted or run away or screamed obscenities. In fact, aside from muted gasps of awe, the three newcomers had been surprisingly quiet.

Which was how four of the five had come to be sitting in the sitting room with large glasses of brandy. Nigel had asked for a closer look at the Raxacoricofallapatorius and had taken off with her father for just that very purpose. Without so much as a look, Helen and James had grabbed glasses for the two remaining men, pouring them generous portions before she'd dragged Nikola to the settee before the fire and James John to the arm chairs in the corner.

"Wow," Nikola breathed again, setting down his still half full glass before shifting in his seat to face her. His eyes were wide with excitement and a small smile playing with the corner of his lips. Helen couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her.

"This is fantastic," he enthused quietly, shuffling closer to her. "I mean, they're... it's just..." He let out a short bark of a laugh before grabbing his glass and taking another swig.

"I'm so pleased you feel that way," Helen said softly, reaching for his free hand, careless to the others in the room. His acceptance and interest in the work meant more to her than she ever realised. He wasn't doing this because of their friendship but of a genuine interest in the possibilities of human abnormalities.

"So this is what you've been hiding away from me all these months," he said, a smug smirk on his lips. "I don't know how you did it, I wouldn't have been able to."

"We had to be certain that you'd each be willing," Helen admitted softly. "And while I wanted to tell you as my friend, I wasn't... I wasn't sure how you'd react."

Nikola's smirk softened and he squeezed her fingers.

"Thank you for sharing this with me," he said reverently. "I... I still can't quite believe what I just saw but... thank you Helen, truly."

"Believe me, no one is more excited to have you aware of this than I," she replied easily, enjoying the way his eyes lit up at the statement. "I wanted to tell you long before the others became involved. It was trying to say the least."

"I understand why you had to keep it so secret though," he said solemnly. "If news of this got out-."

"Not everyone would take it so well as you," she finished, nodding. "It's the very reason my father has created this Sanctuary of sorts. These creatures need our protection."

"I can only imagine how some people would react if they were to encounter these creatures," he agreed. "Though I can't help but wonder what they have been doing up until this point."

"More people mean less hiding places," Helen explained. "It's my belief that these creatures have existed for a very long time and it's only now as we expand the human mind past silly superstitions of monsters and the like that these abnormals are truly in danger."

"But these can't be all of them," Nikola said quickly, brow furrowing. "Surely they exist all over the world."

"They most certainly do," she replied with a smile, pleased at the steps his mind had so easily taken. "In fact the squid like creature you saw before was captured of the coast of Egypt when father was there after Christmas. He travels quite a bit, capturing some of the more dangerous abnormals."

"That hardly sounds practical," Nikola said with a frown.

"It isn't," she said with a shrug. "Eventually I'd like to see a network of facilities like this around the world so that each creature could stay closer to its natural home if possible. For the moment however, that simply isn't feasible but father has contacts worldwide to help him with any particularly difficult creatures and maybe one day that could expand into a full blown facility."

"You've certainly given this a lot of thought," Nikola said fondly. "You've been heavily involved for some time, haven't you?"

"Almost two years," she said, nodding. "Father introduced me to all this after I was rejected from Oxford again. Since then he has taught me all he can in the small amount of time we are actually together. Between that and my position as an auditor at the university, James says I am one of the most proficient surgeons he's ever met."

"Well, if I ever require a doctor, I promise you shall be my first port of call Dr. Magnus," he declared formally before grinning at her and Helen couldn't help but giggle.

"I hardly think that would be appropriate Mr. Tesla," she joked with a smile. "What if whatever ails you is a problem more suited to a male doctor?"

Nikola blushed and spluttered at that but recovered quickly.

"Well then you shall simply have to steel yourself," he said quietly, voice so soft she knew they'd not be overheard. "Isn't that what you Brit's do?"

"If you don't be sensible I'll grab a knife and practice my stitches on you," she bit back, tapping his shoulder lightly as she tried to hold back a grin. "Though considering I wouldn't leave a scar, I hardly think that will suffice as punishment for your mischievous tongue."

"Boaster," he whispered, leaning in closer to her. "And don't you complain about my tongue now, after finding out all the wondrous things it can do."

She giggled and leaned in a little closer, her body thrumming with excitement and brandy. It was only when a soft cough from the corner drew her attention that she pulled back. Glancing nervously to where James was giving her a brotherly smile, she straightened her back, slapping Nikola on the arm.

He pouted at her and she couldn't help but grin.

"Do not try and bait me Niko," she said, waving a finger in his face. "I shall outwit you every time."

"Is that a challenge?" he asked evenly, only the spark in his eye giving away the joke.

Sighing heavily, Helen rolled her eyes and tried to shuffle away from him but Nikola was too quick, grabbing her arm gently as he gave her a small smile.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, looking genuinely upset and Helen took pity on him.

"Blame the company," she said quietly, cupping his cheek as her eyes darted to the men in the corner, John still shaking his head as he gulped down brandy.

"If working with you means I have to censor our relationship I'm not sure how long this will last," he grumbled, making Helen giggle.

"I'm not asking you to do anything of the sort," she replied firmly. "You are my friend Nikola and if the others struggle to comprehend as such well then they can suffer the indignity of watching us cavort about like fools in silence." Nikola chuckled at her mocking tone before sighing and leaning back against the chair.

"I still can't quite believe it though," he admitted softly, shaking his head. "I mean, Helen you might have, in your basement, the key to the future of the human race."

"Or the past," she countered. "I think these creatures are the key to unravelling the way in which human's have changed over time."

"They aren't human though," he cut in swiftly, brow furrowing.

"What?" she spluttered, anger rising within her.

"Well they aren't..." he said, rubbing his nose with a knuckle as he always did when deep in thought.

"While some of those creatures are indeed variants of animals, the majority of them have human characteristics and are very much sentient beings to which we share some kind of genetic heritage!" she almost growled. "You cannot call them any less than human simply because they do not look normal Nikola."

At her frosty tone, his eyes widened and shifted closer to her.

"No, no, not like that," he said hurriedly. "They just... they aren't human."

Helen balled her fists, ready for a fight. She cared deeply for Nikola but she'd not let him criticise poor creatures that had no home simply for the way they may look.

"It's not a bad thing," he rushed, eyes still wide. "They're wondrous Helen, truly fantastic. It could very well be the find of the century but these creatures aren't human and it's an insult to call them as such. They are so much more than that."

Almost instantly, Helen felt herself start to blush at her idiocy. Of course Nikola wouldn't be so callous and, in fact, he did have a point, one she'd never even thought of in such terms. He'd argued previously that there was a point where a species diverged to such an extent where it became its own species and seeing all that she had, Helen was starting to wonder if he was right. These creatures were wondrous, just as he'd said but from the studies she'd undertaken of their blood, she knew there was a large gap between the two. Maybe they weren't human... Maybe they really were something more.

"I've never thought of it that way," she admitted softly, not paying Nikola too much attention, her mind completely absorbed by the new facet she couldn't believe she'd never considered. Of course, it had briefly flittered across her mind but the way Nikola had phrased it made it all seem so much more logical but then the doors behind them burst open and she was ripped from her daze.

"The... the... the Raxa-thing has escaped," panted a very bloody Nigel. He was clutching his arm to his chest as he staggered forwards, Helen's father stumbling after him. Helen was on her feet in a moment, dashing to her friend's side but her father shooed her away.

"I'll take care of him," he urged. "He'll be perfectly alright but you four need to get out there and find her."

"But father-," Helen began, wide-eyed.

"Go change," he barked, leaning over Nigel as he winced. "She likes you Helen, she'll be less inclined to attack if you're the one to find her. Now go."

Helen took a single, deep breath before squaring her shoulders and looking around the room.

"James, take John and Nikola down stairs and get the proper containment equipment ready. And some guns, she may be docile enough to come with us voluntarily but I'll not have her attack anyone else," she ordered before turning on her heel and fleeing to her bedchamber, adrenaline pumping through her body and making her chest heave with breath and suddenly, Helen was wishing like anything she'd not chosen green silk for this evening's affairs instead a more practical and serviceable gown.


	15. Nikki

By the time Helen arrived back down stairs, James had assembled the others in the parlour, all rugged up to protect against the cool evening air. In one hand he carried a large, sturdy cage filled with blankets and in the other, a gun she recognized as one of her father's. She could have smiled at the scene the boys presented; James with his cool determination, John with his detached fascination and Nikola... well, Nikola looked just plain skittish. His hands were stuffed deep in his pockets, his shoulders hunched as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. His eyes were wide, darting about the room as if searching for escape before finally, his gaze landed on her. He smiled then, a tentative gesture filled with fear that made Helen want to sweep him upstairs and tuck him under the covers. Of course, a silly little part of her mind suggested getting in with him but she pushed that aside. Sometimes her feminine idiocies, as she liked to call them, were very bothersome indeed.

Shaking such thoughts from her head, Helen descended the stairs, buttoning the last piece of her leather coat in place. Beneath it she wore barely more than her underthings. Just her thickest petticoats and a thin yet long sleeved shirt that fell over her shift. She wore no bustle and the corset, whilst still giving her the proper shape, was made with thicker panels of fabric to give her better protection. The woman who had been commissioned for the piece had been scandalized to say the least but, after doubling the payment, she'd happily created the garment, even offering ways to improve on the design. In fact, the corset had been entirely the seamstress' creation.

"Are you ready?" she asked James, pulling on her gloves. "We'll have to travel quickly, the poor thing has had quite the head start."

James nodded curtly before double checking his weapon and Helen turned to the others. She could tell Nikola's wide eyes had now had something to do with the outfit she wore but, much to her surprise, she detected much the same thing from John. Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, she strode past them, heading straight for the cupboard by the door. Collecting the key from its hidden compartment, she quickly pulled out the draw she was searching for, taking out three of the guns from within. Quickly she checked each, making sure they were fully loaded and in top condition before turning and offering one to both John and Nikola.

John took the gun gingerly, eyeing it with something close to disdain while Nikola merely looked at it.

Rolling her eyes, Helen stepped up to him, pressing the gun into his hand as she holstered her own weapon. Nikola shot her an uncomfortable look before glancing quickly around the room. Without a word he grabbed her arm, dragging her away from the others.

"Helen," he began softly, fear making his accent thicker and voice tremble.

"What's the matter Nikola?" she asked hurriedly. While his obvious discomfort worried her, the thought of that poor creature out there alone was even more terrifying to her. More than that, she had complete confidence in Nikola and his ability to assist her on this mission however small it may be.

"I... I've never used one of these things before," he said under his breath, shooting her a positively terrified glance before looking nervously to the others who were all studiously ignoring them.

"What do you mean?" she asked, cocking her head as she paused in double checking the strap around her waist for the gun. "Surely you must have fired a gun once in your life. Perhaps even for hunting... I know it's not the same as a rifle but the basics-."

"I have never fired a gun," he said clearly, getting more agitated as he spoke. "Not once in my life, I assure you."

"Surely your father..."

"He is a priest Helen," Nikola all but hissed. "My weekends were spent either cleaning the church, learning about the church or praying in a church, not riding off with daddy dearest to shoot down a few wild animals."

"My father never," she began in an affronted tone but Nikola waved her off.

"The point is I don't have the first clue as to what to do with this," he muttered, waving the gun between two fingers.

"Firstly," Helen said, grabbing the gun before he shot himself, "we don't swing it around like a toy." He scowled at that but stepped closer to her, looking uncomfortably back towards their companions.

"Perhaps I ought to sit this out," he said sadly. "I'll only make trouble."

"Nonsense," Helen chastised, her voice a tad higher than she'd anticipated. After all her planning and plotting for this day, she'd not let her Nikola run away. He would be a great asset for them and she knew it but more than that it would be wrong without him, they were already down one. Taking the gun away from him, she placed it carefully into her second holster before taking his hand.

"No guns today," she whispered, pleased at the ghost of a smile that flitted across his features though she could sense he was embarrassed. "Not that we'll actually need them," she added with a smile.

He sighed and rolled his eyes at her but, as she pulled him back towards the others, said nothing.

"Nikola, take the carrier and a lantern," she instructed, working to make her voice as authoritarian as possible. "James, you'll bring up the rear and John can stay between us."

"Shouldn't you let one of us go first?" John suggested softly, clearly uncertain as to how his suggestion might be received. Part of Helen was tempted to berate him for such thinking but she knew it came only of their upbringing as opposed to any attempt to discredit her ability. That and a small part of her became rather gooey at the protective element. It wasn't that she thought the others wouldn't offer the same if they thought it possible she'd accept, it was more that this man and such a prime example of a man would make the offer was almost astounding to her.

"I'll be perfectly fine," she replied, smoothing down her hair as if it could stop the girlish fluttering in her stomach. "But we must get a move on or she'll disappear into thin air."

"Do you have any idea where it will have gone?" James asked as he holstered his weapon, grabbing a lantern and passing it to her.

"Towards the pond out back I'd think," she replied. "The creature loves water, seems to think itself safe if it can swim. Also, you'll all need to keep an eye out for any kind of movements in the undergrowth. The poor beast cannot climb so, if it hasn't made it as far as the pond, it'll most likely be hiding beneath a bush or something."

"Will it attack us?" John asked, sounding faintly worried yet still, somehow, detached.

"Not unless you give it reason to," she said firmly. "Just don't get too close. Stay behind me at all time and, unless you think it's about to rip my throat out, don't draw your weapons, they're only to be used as a last resort."

She looked about the room, fixing each man with a harsh glare. While she expected them to act as her partners in this endeavour, this particular creature was very close to her heart and she'd not allow harm to come to it.

"Helen, you know all too well that your definition of a life endangering situation differs greatly from that of most people," James said sceptically. Helen rolled her eyes at that but James shook his head, turning to the others.

"She doesn't like to admit defeat," he said tactfully and Helen breathed a sigh of relief. Make one foolish judgment call that actually ended in the successful capture of the creature they were seeking and she had never heard the end of it. "If I remember correctly, she was just about to launch herself from the roof of a building when I caught up with her."

Traitor, she thought angrily. So much for being tactful.

"We're wasting time," she bit out, trying to contain her frustration. James, as much as she adored him, could be trying to say the least. With that, she turned on her heel and strode through the house, towards the back door, pleased to hear the sounds of the others quickly following. Putting her hand on the polished brass door knob, Helen took a deep breath to steady herself. This was it, everything she'd been working for.

She must have paused a second too long because, next thing she knew, Nikola was beside her, hand covering hers as he gave her a gentle smile. With her hand securely under his, he turned the knob, pushing open the door before stepping back to allow her to lead the way. Turning, she smiled at him before stepping out into the bracing night air.

* * *

"This is pointless," John whispered softly from somewhere behind her but Helen ignored it. So they'd been searching for nearly an hour? Wasn't it worth it if they managed to track down the creature before it froze to death? It may have been only early autumn but the night air was chilling, even through her layers Helen felt colder than she had in a very long time.

"We cannot leave her out here to die," Helen whispered back, not taking her eyes from the small pool of light her lantern cast. "Perhaps we should try the pond again?"

"We've checked the pond three times already Helen," James said evenly.

"What if she's left the property though?" Nikola asked, sounding concerned.

"We checked the fences," James replied quietly. "There weren't any indicators of a break and we already know it cannot climb up that high."

"That's not technically true," Helen put in as they rounded another tree. "She could very well climb that high if something scared her enough."

"You could have mentioned that earlier," James said, sounding exasperated but Helen didn't let it put her off.

"There is nothing out here to scare her that badly," she bit back. "I'd have told you about it if I felt it was pertine- Nikola, what are you doing?"

She frowned, turning around to glare but, before she could shake off the hand that landed on her hip, he put a finger to her lips, the heat of the lantern almost scorching through her leather coat. He shot her a look of warning and she had to fight against the flash of disappointment she felt at not being able to suck his finger into her mouth because of their audience. Not that she was certain he'd enjoy such an action but, with his hand on her hip and his scent invading her nostrils, getting somehow closer to him was quickly becoming something of a priority for her.

He had his head cocked, listening to the sounds of the night so she did the same, halting her breathing until she heard that telltale rustle in the bushes just behind them. She and Nikola spun at the same time, eyeing the bush with matching looks of fear. All her desire fell away at the noise, her body instead realising that Nikola could be in danger. She hadn't been kidding when she'd spoken of the problems their cologne could cause. The Raxacoricofallapatorius had a highly developed olfactory sense and was terribly sensitive to strong odours. Thankfully the soap and perfume Helen had used for most of her life appeared to have no effect on the little darling, in fact it seemed to thoroughly enjoy nuzzling into the exact spot she placed her perfume every morning.

"Is it-," James started but Helen held up a hand to silence him but it was too late, the creature sprang into action and out of the bushes and it was only Nikola's quick thinking in pushing her to the side that saved them from being bowled over by it. As it was, she did end up with her front pressed firmly to an old, gnarled tree but any discomfort she felt from the position melted away at the sensation of Nikola pressed against her back. He was panting against the side of her neck, arms around her and, despite the adrenaline and need to race after the creature, all Helen truly wanted to do was turn in his embrace and wrap her arms around him but Nikola was too quick, pulling away before the position could get any more compromising.

"Thank you," she breathed, barely looking at him before hurrying off in the direction she'd seen the Raxacoricofallapatorius dash.

"Helen!" James called out in surprise as she hurried past him but she didn't stop, clinging to her lantern. Soon enough though, she came to a stop, listening intently for any more sounds but, too soon the crunch of boots on grass caught up with her. Holding up a hand, she silently prayed for silence, pleased when the others came to a silent stop behind her. They all waited for a few seconds, listening to the sounds of the night but, for a time it seemed only their breathing punctuated the air. Then she heard it. Another rustle. Biting her lip, Helen slowly stepped towards the bush, placing her lantern on the ground before sinking down beside it. Internally she cringed at what she was about to do but she knew she had no choice.

"Nikki," she crooned softly, leaning forwards to peer into the darkness. "Nikki I promise it's alright, just come out." The bush rustled once more and she held her breath until a pair of bright green eyes poked out from the shrubbery.

"Sit down," she murmured, turning her head ever so slightly to instruct the others. There was a pause before she heard three bodies slowly sink to the ground. Smiling, she turned back to the scared Raxacoricofallapatorius, shuffling forward slowly.

"It's alright Nikki," she soothed, holding a hand out, wishing she'd had the foresight to bring some food while, at the same time, listening for any signs of laughter. The name had come about accidentally, her father insisting on something easier to pronounce. They'd deliberated over it for a few days but finally, when she'd been part way through writing one of Nikola's letter, the Raxacoricofallapatorius on her lap they'd found a name it appeared to respond to. It had jumped up, making Helen spill her bottle of ink and she'd chastised it, telling the creature that Nikola wouldn't be happy at that. The Raxacoricofallapatorius had looked up to her at the mention of her friends name, batting its eyelashes prettily and, while she refused to call it Nikola, she reacted in kind to Nikki and the name had stuck.

"Come on," she coaxed as it began to emerge from the bush. It paused for a second, regarding the group with what Helen could only term reluctance before it bounded into her lap, burrowing into her skirts as if the leather could shield it. Helen laughed softly at the creature's antics but tightened her arms around it, bring it up to rest against her chest. It squirmed a little, its muscular body settling in close before it began to hum, a high pitched little noise Helen had come to learn meant it was worried.

"Everything is fine," she whispered, stroking its coarse hair for a moment before she turned slowly, allowing the others to see that all was well. The Raxacoricofallapatorius mewled at that, snuggling closer but, after shushing it for a moment, it relaxed in her arms, looking around the enraptured group before looking back up to Helen in askance.

"They won't hurt you," she soothed. "I promise." It mewled again but settled and Helen slowly lowered her to her lap. "Nikola?" she asked, looking up beckon him closer. He looked taken aback before but did as she asked, shifting until their knees were almost touching. The Raxacoricofallapatorius's eyes widened and it shrunk back but, as Helen chuckled, it seemed to relax, sensing that it was not in danger.

"She's beautiful," Nikola whispered, almost reverently, reaching out with one shaking hand. He paused midway between them, looking to Helen in question but before she could respond, the creature sat up, bumping the top of its head against Nikola's hand. He started, withdrawing his hand quickly and startling the Raxacoricofallapatorius but, after reaching out with one slender, three toed paw to prod his knee, it sat up again, padding happily from Helen's lap straight into Nikola's. She chuckled at the action but Nikola spluttered, leaning back as if afraid.

"She's just curious," Helen soothed, reaching over to rub behind the huge ears standing straight up from its head. Nikola relaxed a little, reaching out cautiously to run his hand over its back. The Raxacoricofallapatorius closed its eyes, enjoying Nikola's caress for a moment before it launched up on its hind legs, pressing it's front paws to his chest, regarding Nikola. For a moment, no one moved but then its small blue tongue appeared, licking Nikola's chin and Helen couldn't help but laugh. The Raxacoricofallapatorius looked to her, confused at her reaction before licking Nikola's face one more time, making Nikola laugh too despite the aversion Helen knew he suffered to germs. At that, the creature pulled back, turning about to look at the others. Without a second thought it left Nikola, heading towards James. It nuzzled his knee for a moment, enjoying his scratches behind the ear for a moment before twisting to look over at John. Slowly, cautiously, it padded towards him only to stop several feet away, hissing like mad for a moment but, before Helen could reach out to grab the creature, she stopped, sprinting back to Nikola's lap. Quickly it made itself comfortable, laying its head and paws on his knee, peering at John. It hissed softly once more before seating itself more firmly in Nikola's lap.

With what Helen could only call a smug grin, Nikola petted the creature softly before smirking at her. Laughing softly, Helen shook her head before reaching out to pat the creature too. After a moment, John and James moved closer but the Raxacoricofallapatorius hissed at John. Helen tutted, tapping it on the top of the head.

"It's alright," Nikola drawled to the creature, fingers still running over its glossy coat. "John won't hurt you, he's only a lawyer."

Helen had to stifle a snort at that but was pleased when the creature made no protest at John's continued approach, merely shuffling closer to Nikola, rolling onto its back as it did so. The group laughed softly, causing the creature to cock its head at them and all of a sudden, Helen was overcome with a strong sense of pride. This was what it had all been about. True, the fact Nigel had been attacked wasn't exactly the best of starts but, if both he and John were to change their cologne (she couldn't find any other reason for the creature's reaction) she could see no reason that this group would not thrive.

Then a gust of icy air overcame them and Helen watched as the Raxacoricofallapatorius shivered in Nikola's lap.

"Perhaps we should get her inside," Nikola said softly, not looking up from the creature in his arms.

"Agreed," Helen said readily, standing up. The other's quickly followed, Nikola standing gingerly as he cradled the creature. Helen watched the way he held her, the ease with which he managed it as it began to squirm. She almost laughed as he began shushing it gently as a mother would a fussy baby. For all his complaints that he hated both small children and small animals, he was doing far better than she had the first time they'd met the creature. Nikola cooed at it for a moment, trying to calm it before the faint sheen of panic spread across his features and he looked to Helen.

Smiling softly, Helen stepped forwards, holding her arms open to the creature which happily launched itself at her, only Nikola's arm reaching for her that stopped her from falling over at the force of it. The creature snuggled in close to her chest, purring against her as she led the other's back the house. Nikola stayed close by her side, eyes trained on the creature curled in her arms as they made their way back to the house though it didn't escape her attention that he wiped his hands and chin fastidiously with a linen handkerchief as they went. He held a lantern for, lighting their path back while the other two brought up the rear, holding the lanterns aloft to provide some more light as they hurried back.

The short trip passed in relative silence and soon enough they were slipping the sleeping Raxacoricofallapatorius back into its cage. It mewled softly in protest but snuggled into the hay happily, allowing Helen to softly close the door behind it.

Turning about, she smiled at the three men before her.

"Thank you for your help this evening, I don't know how I'd have managed to get her back without you."

"Nonsense," John said, waving a hand."You were the one who found her, we almost caused her to run away again."

"Yes, John's quite right," James agreed, a twinkle in his eye that put Helen off. "You are the true reason little 'Nikki' in there is safe."

She glared at him for a moment as a blush rose in her cheeks but, thankfully she was saved from having to respond by her father and Nigel entering the room.

"All go well then?" Nigel asked, nursing a bandaged arm.

"Swimmingly," James drawled, patting the younger man on the back. "Though, as fun as this has been, I'd like to take my leave if that's alright with you Gregory?"

"Certainly," her father agreed. "It's far later than I intended to keep you all anyway."

"James, could you escort Nigel home?" Helen asked quickly, "I don't like the idea of him alone after these kinds of injuries."

"I'm perfectly fine," Nigel said amiably. "Aside from having to find a new cologne that is."

Helen chuckled appreciatively but soon enough found herself standing at the front door with James, Nigel and Nikola, John having already left in his own carriage.

"Father," Helen called over her shoulder as she shrugged into a thicker over coat, "I'll escort Nikola home if that's alright with you. After all, he came with me this afternoon and has no way of getting back."

"Nikola is more than welcome to join Nigel and I," James offered. "After all, we are heading in almost exactly the same direction."

Helen floundered for a moment, unsure of how to secure herself some more time with her friend.

"In that case," Nikola said stoically, "I shall see you in the morning Helen." He bent quickly, pressing a brief kiss to her cheek before smiling at her. James and Nigel quickly made their goodbyes and before she knew it, Helen was standing with her father in the door way, watching her friends retreat to the waiting carriage. Stifling a sigh, she turned, heading straight for the sitting room they'd been using before. The brandy would no doubt still be sitting out on the table and although she knew others could clean it, she wasn't even remotely tired, her entire being thrumming with adrenaline that she knew would prevent her sleep.

Her father said nothing, allowing her the slow walk back into the room and she listened as his footsteps plod off towards his chambers. Sighing, Helen slowly began cleaning up the room, placing the glasses gently on a tray ready for collection the next day before carrying the crystal decanter back to its proper position back on the shelf. In a perfect world, the others would have been able to stay with her, discussing each facet of the small retrieval mission at length. It was a pleasure she loved to indulge in and one her father seldom allowed. Always Helen wanted to relive it, to go through the experience step by step until it was totally ingrained in her mind so that next time the same mistakes would not be made. James, she had found, did not share her passion for this debrief but Nikola she knew would have stayed up talking with her for hours despite the early class they all had the next day. Many times the pair of them had stayed up late, discussing experiments and lectures until they ended up straight back where they started but she loved it, the dissection of such things enthralled her.

Leaning heavily against the wall, Helen closed her eyes, trying to have the same conversation with herself but it wasn't nearly as stimulating.

Just as she was about to begin the slow assent to her room, she heard the soft sounds of one of the live in maids at the front door followed by a distinctly male voice. One that she recognised in a second. Hurrying across the room, she couldn't help but smile as he stepped through the great doors across from her, a wide grin on his face.

"I told the other's I forgot my gloves," he half whispered, hurrying towards her and she couldn't help but grin too.

"Why?" she asked, meeting him halfway. They stopped inches from each other, both grinning and for some reason, out of breath.

"I forgot to give you something," he said huskily, his voice dropping as one tentative hand came up to rest on her waist. Her grin widened and she stepped closer, eyes closing in anticipation but Nikola chuckled and her eyes flew open again. "That too," he allowed with a smirk, pulling her so close she was forced to wrap her arms around his neck.

Still smiling at her, he reached between them with his spare hand, fumbling through his pockets until finally he produced a small slip of paper. He held it up between their faces, tapping her nose gently with it.

"When I'm gone," he whispered hurriedly. "Then you can read it, alright?"

Helen nodded, bringing an arm down so she could take the paper before wrapping herself back around him. He wasted no more time after that, holding her tight as his lips descended on hers hungrily, their tongues moving almost frantically as Helen brought her hands down to cling to the front of his jacket. He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss with a low growl as his hands came up to tangle in her elaborate nest of curls. His hands, despite their insistent grip on her, were gentle, cradling her as if she were made of glass but it wasn't what she wanted. The adrenaline still pulsing through her wanted more, wanted him to crush her to his front while his hands groped at her in the most unseemly manner but all too soon he pulled back breathlessly, his eyes wide with delight.

Helen fought the urge to pout, wanting nothing more than to pull him back to her again but, with a wide grin, Nikola stepped back.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked breathlessly, walking backwards towards the door and she nodded. He grinned once more, pausing in the door way before turning on his heel and hurrying from the room, something dark falling from his pocket. Helen rushed to the object, picking it up quickly and hurrying towards the front door just in time to see the carriage door shut behind Nikola.

"Nikola!" she cried, raising a hand to try and signal him. "You dropped your..." she looked to what she was holding and sighed, shaking her head.

"Gloves."


	16. Bedtime routines

As Nikola pushed open the door to his tiny room, he couldn't help but smile broadly. Today had been a good day. Between Helen's deliberately provocative attire as they'd met in the afternoon right through to the marvels she'd shown them all. It had all been... indescribable. The only improvement would have been getting the chance to spend the rest of the evening with her. Not in the more crass way his mind suggested but simply to be afford the opportunity to talk with her for hours to come. His mind was still whirring, in desperate need of discussion of some sorts. Nigel and James had been able to help to an extent but both seemed tired, Nigel especially given his rather gruesome evening.

He didn't begrudge them their silence in any way but he needed to talk, he needed to dissect it all. James, to his credit seemed to understand that but a small part of Nikola held back despite the burning desire for discussion. They were friends, sort of but he really didn't know them too well. He'd chased off friends before with what was often perceived as over the top enthusiasm for subjects that weren't popular to all. For all he knew James was so involved he was bored by the concept and Nigel so perturbed by his encounter that he never wanted to be involved again! So he had pulled back, holding in as many of his exclamations as possible.

That had, however, become easier when he'd started to blush profusely and stutter as they asked after his still absent gloves. The ones he'd returned to Helen for. James gave him a small, knowing look that made Nikola wonder if he had guessed what they'd spent their afternoon doing. He'd muttered some half hearted excuse of having left them at home and sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, hoping the lack of light in the carriage hid the embarrassment that he knew would be colouring his cheeks.

* * *

Helen sighed, rolling her shoulders as she lumbered towards her dressing room. She'd already dismissed Brigette, content not only to struggled with the lacing of her corset but also to reflect in peace. The few staff they kept on were privy to activities that took place in the bowels of the home but none of them liked to speak of it. Except Elsie of course who took every chance she got to complain about the good Doctor's patients who ate only the most messy of foods.

Brigette was no exception though. Helen had made it clear from the moment she became aware of the work her father was doing that, should the girl have any questions of queries, she was more than welcome to voice them. With the exception of recommending Helen invest in sturdier gowns and more durable colours, she'd remained quiet and Helen had avoided speaking on the topic overly much. Thankfully Brigette never muttered about the work that was going on like others but Helen had the distinct feeling her maid was rather uncomfortable with the idea. Not that Helen could blame her. After all, when she'd first found out, as excited as she was, part of Helen had worried at sleeping in the same house as potentially dangerous creatures. Now of course it wasn't so much a problem.

* * *

Stripping off his jacket, Nikola carefully hung it, running his hands over the fabric to check for any marks from the day's activities. Inhaling deeply, he enjoyed the faint remnants of Helen's scent that lingered on the garment from where she'd been resting against him earlier. Her hair had tickled his cheek but it had been worth it, her tiny little tongue darting out to taste the skin behind his ear driving all thoughts of tickles from his mind. She'd been ravenous in her touches, hands gripping him maybe a little more harshly that strictly necessary but he hadn't complained.

They both, however, had complained when the time came for them to separate again. She'd pouted as the chime of the grandfather clock in the corner of the room chimed, signalling that their time was up. While his own heart had sunk, the adorable frown across her face had helped to keep his spirits up. Of course, that had earned him a few slaps about the chest but he'd simply pulled her close, running his hands as far down his back as he dared. The fine silk of her dress had been slippery beneath his fingers, the perfect excuse to allow his hands to drop down and cup something a little lower than normally allowed. She hadn't complained though, simply chuckling as she ran her hands through his hair before resting her head against his shoulder.

It had taken some doing but eventually they'd separated themselves long enough to get down to her waiting carriage. Naturally the imposed distance disappeared once they were safely ensconced within the dark space but it hadn't been anything lecherous. They'd simply held hands the entire way. He was a little bit proud of the fact that, even as they'd emerged at her home, he'd not felt the need to wash his hands. It was, quite literally, a first.

* * *

Helen let out a small grunt of annoyance as she continued to pop the buttons that ran the length of her front. The tightest ones by her throat were already done but those by her ankles were hard to reach given the constriction of her corset. Part of her just wished to yank the material apart and send the damn things flying. A small smile curled her lips as the last one finally gave way and she could straighten, shrugging out of the tight leather until it pooled behind her. With quick hands she grabbed the bottom of the thin top she wore, yanking it up and over her head with a grimace as it tugged at the pins in her hair. Tossing it aside, she bent down again, grabbing the leather and straightening it out, noting with disdain the small scrapes across the chest of the garment.

Then she remembered the feel of Nikola pressed against her that had caused the scrapes and she smiled once more. It was only brief but when he'd pressed her to the tree with the majority of his body weight, she'd been unable to look past the feeling of comfort his warmth gave her. She knew it meant more than he could express, actually allowing himself to get so physically close to another human being was hard.

He really was sweet, she mused as she straightened out the leather as her hands began to pull at the laces of her corset, thankful they were at the front on this particular contraption. He was so terribly afraid of germs and contact yet for her he seemed to push through it. He held her hand, kissed her lips, allowed her to touch his face (something she knew he still found strange on occasion) and actually encouraged all of these behaviours. Helen sighed, still working on the damn laces as she wished she had some similar ailment to push through so she could show him just how much his friendship actually meant to her.

* * *

Bending down, Nikola stowed his shoes in the bottom of his closet, making sure to tuck the laces back into them. He swiped his thumb across a smear on the front of one of them, frowning as he discovered it was a scuff before he straightened up, shutting the door and turning to his wash basin. His need to be clean was waring with his love of smelling like Helen, her unique scent still clinging to his skin. With a sigh he stepped forwards, grabbing the cloth and dipping it into the rapidly cooling water before wiping his face slowly. The water began to drip down his chin, snaking along his neck until it began to sink into the thin cotton undershirt he still wore. He was still in his trousers, suspenders hanging by his sides as his cotton clad toes flexed against the floorboards.

Once he was sure his face was properly cleaned, he dipped the cloth into the water once more before bringing it up and wringing it out above his head. Rubbing a hand through his hair, he repeated the move until the slick of his hair was diminished enough. In the small mirror above the basin he could see his hair sticking up in places and he grinned, the look reminding him of how Helen adored mussing up his hair. Quickly he washed the rest of his torso, dragging the cloth and soap along his bared arms before tugging off his shirt and rinsing off his chest too. The water was cold now, chilling his skin with the aid of the draft that always permeated his quarters. He'd prefer to bathe properly but it was too late and he'd need another after his swim in the morning anyway.

Nikola wrung out the small washcloth methodically, placing it back beside the basin. He turned to make his way towards where his night shirt was but something in the mirror caught his attention. It was a small mark, no bigger than a... than a set of lips, he decided. No bigger than Helen's lips when she nibbled on his neck. Nibbled and sucked and laved at it with her tongue. At the time it had felt spectacular, his body reacting in all kinds of inappropriate ways but now he could nothing but stare in confused bliss.

She had marked him.

* * *

Helen let out a moan of relief as the pressure around her ribs dissipated, her corset falling away and allowing her to breathe properly. Despite her hatred of the garment, she carefully placed it in the appropriate position, ready for cleaning before tugging at the strings that held her petticoats in place. With nimble fingers she undid the knots, working hard to make sure they didn't snag and require scissors to remove. Finally the mass of fabric fell to the floor, leaving Helen in only her stocking and chemise.

Sitting down, she rucked up the thin chemise, grateful for the small fire that warmed the room. Without thinking about it, she began to unfasten her stockings, the ribbons falling apart easily but as she pushed the thin fabric down her legs, she couldn't help but think back to the way Nikola had caressed her legs earlier. Of course, it had been through the layers of her dress but even then, pressed up against the window, seated on the ledge her body had trembled. She marvelled at how different her own fingers felt on her flesh and couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like if Nikola were to one day reach up beneath her skirts. Even through her stockings she could imagine his warm fingers would feel lovely.

Fighting off the faint shiver that ran down her spine, Helen stood and pulled off the garters and garter belt, tossing them to sit atop the discarded stockings. She really ought to get to them now but she was too tired. They could be dealt with in the morning.

Moving to her mirror, Helen cringed at the sight of her mussed hair. The golden curls that had cascaded from an artful bunch atop her head were looser now, giving her an almost debauched air. No doubt Nikola's hands raking through her hair over the course of their afternoon had not helped but she knew it wasn't all Nikola's fault. Running about in the gardens in search of their abnormal friend certainly had something to do with it too. Even that she couldn't be too upset about.

Smiling, she started pulling at the remaining pins.

* * *

He was still grinning slightly as he pulled his night shirt over his head, the thin fabric sticking slightly to his still damp skin. Helen truly was amazing. She aroused every part of him, his mind and body wanted her more than was seemly. And she seemed to want him too. He'd caught her referring to him as her best friend on a few occasions though he knew she felt more than that for him. After all, you didn't run about kissing your best friend in dark carriages.

Pulling back the covers, Nikola quickly fluffed his pillow before walking towards the tiny, ineffectual fire in the corner. Carefully he dropped another small long into the dying embers, shivering as another gust blew through the small room. Grabbing the poker, he tried to coax the fire into something a little more impressive though he soon got distracted, the small amount of heat radiating reminded him of Helen's soft skin under his hands. She was so hot, always so very hot under his touch. Not that he could tell much through her thick dresses but the small amount of bare skin he'd been able to touch had always been burning against him.

Her cheeks often flushed after their little 'sessions', eyes blazing with something delicious that made Nikola wish he wasn't so shy at times. For all he'd held her and kissed her, he was still afraid of Helen in some respects. She was beautiful and intelligent and half the men they studied with were lusting after her. She shouldn't be with him, she just shouldn't. It made no sense to him that such a fantastic creature could choose him for company. In fact, it frightened him. He just knew he'd make a mistake, do something or say something that would have her laughing at him and strolling away with one of the thousands of men who would undoubtedly love to claim her attentions.

* * *

Running a hand down her stomach, Helen smoothed out the cotton of her nightgown before wandering tiredly towards her bed. Her mind was still buzzing from the evenings activity but her muscles were starting to protest. It was late and she had a class at 9 am with Nikola. She smiled softly at the thought, tugging back her quilt to slide in to bed.

Nikola really was sweet, she mused absently, hugging her pillow tightly. She let her mind wander in her exhausted state and suddenly she could have sworn it was not her soft blankets wrapped around her but Nikola, his body pressed gently to her. His hands would be polite though, resting on her stomach as his long, delicious fingers drew absent patterns through the fabric. His breath would be tickling her ear, lips flirting with that sensitive spot he so loved to take advantage of. She'd shuffle back in his arms, allowing his chest to press more firmly against her. He'd probably splutter and curse the unruly curls she'd just brushed out before sweeping them out of the way tenderly so that he could burrow in closer. She vaguely knew the thought of sharing her bed with a man was a strange and not all together proper one but it was just Nikola, she mused sleepily.

Nikola.

Nikola.

Nikola.

He had given her a letter.

She bolted up right, the thought chasing all sleep from her mind. Tossing back the covers she scrambled out, dashing back to where she'd discarded her leather coat. She'd pressed the small note into her pocket earlier, promising herself it would be a bed time treat. She fumbled for a few moments, searching for the hidden pocket in what now seemed like a mountain of dress.

* * *

Nikola moved about his room slowly, now unable to get to sleep, his mind was working overtime. What if she secretly loathed him? What if she was out to do nothing more than take what she wanted from a man before running away? What if she thought him nothing more than a passing amusement?

What if, secretly, she was plotting to steal his ideas and parade about as a genius while he we reduced to... to... to something low and degrading.

He almost laughed at the last one, the ludicrousness of it all finally hitting him though it did nothing to alleviate his fears. Helen was Helen, he reminded himself. Kind, calm, friendly, loving Helen. The woman of his dreams, not the tormentor of his nightmares. She was the woman he held despite the germs, she was the woman he bent over backwards for because she was...  _Helen_.

His breathing slowly began to ease as he reminded himself of how foolish this was. Sure she was beautiful and smart and graceful and elegant and everything he wasn't but she cared for him. She had to. She chose him, chose to stay by his side. It had been her suggestion that afternoon that they hide away to indulge in a few kisses. In fact, she was the one who'd pushed him down to the floor, straddling his hips as her lips moved incessantly against his. She was the one who made it hard for him to behave properly, she was the one who marked him with her delightful little mouth.

And, he thought with a smile as he organised his books for the next day, she was the one who insisted they arrive early so as to spend more time together.

* * *

With a triumphant grin, Helen pulled the paper from her skirt, clutching it tight as she sprinted back to her bed. Snuggling back under the covers, she turned so that the moonlight was streaming in over her shoulder. Anticipation thrummed through her as she unfolded the small scrap of paper.

Only two words graced her note, his scrawl immediately recognizable and it sent Helen's heart aflutter.

_Thank you_

No more, no less. Just two words signed with a small heart in the bottom corner. The paper was torn from a notebook, ink smudged ever so slightly indicating the haste with which it was written but it made her body tingle none the less. She had expected many things from her strange best friend but gratitude was not one of them.

Unable to wipe the smile from her face, she snuggled further into the soft blankets, holding the note to her chest as she closed her eyes.

* * *

She cared for him, he told himself, his mind starting to beg for sleep. It was late and he'd have to be up early to get down to the bathing pools before anyone else. Plus today had been a good day, he shouldn't be fretting at a time like this.

And as Nikola collapsed back onto his bed he grinned, a stray thought floating through his mind as he recounted the gloriousness that had been the day.

She named it Nikki.


	17. Delicate Matters

Pulling his coat more tightly around himself, Nikola bowed his head as he scurried down the path. It was barely November but the chill in the air had well and truly settled in, happily seeping in through his almost threadbare coat. It was quite possibly time to invest in a new one. Plus the amount of scorch marks was bordering on ridiculous.

Pushing away the idea to be dealt with when he wasn't running late, Nikola picked up the pace. His cheeks were stinging in the wind, no doubt bright red from the exertion of running from his dorm all the way to the main body of the campus but he wasn't focused on that. His mind was instead preoccupied with equations and variables.

For the past almost two months 'The Five' as they had jokingly dubbed themselves had been working together every spare minute they got. Of course, Helen was still at the helm though she refused to acknowledge such a fact and it was with her guidance that they had found a truly harmonious working relationship. Even Nikola, with his disdain for other, often lesser beings was enjoying himself immensely. The others treated him well, better than he had ever experienced in an academic community and he was slowly learning to call them his friends.

Naturally there were still some tension between them from time to time but the majority of that was on a professional level. John enjoyed playing devil's advocate on ethical matters where James often struggled to comprehend that he wasn't always right. Nikola's issues with Nigel were limited to a few personal jibes from time to time and while there were moments when he wished for the ability to tear them apart, deep down he was more thankful than he could comprehend that Helen had chosen him for this little group.

Even the esteemed Dr. Magnus seemed to be warming to him as well though he suspected that was thanks to Helen's gentle coaxing of her father and of his manners. That and she would hold his hand beneath the table if he behaved which was compensation enough for him.

Since they formed, he'd seen less and less of Helen on her own which was, to Nikola's mind, the only serious drawback. They were often so engrossed in their work that their usual lunches and get-togethers fell by the wayside. Of course, she always made time for him and he worked to clear some time to spend with her but, nine times of ten, they'd end up talking about their latest experiments or another piece of abnormal research she'd managed to get her hands on.

If Nikola was perfectly honest, he was fascinated by these abnormals more so than any of the other work they were doing. The idea of the genetic changes leading to such captivating creatures was enticing despite his lack of interest in the 'soft sciences'. Biological sciences still turned his stomach somewhat and it was only the dead remnants of creatures that appeared under a microscope that he could deal with but the possibilities these creatures represented were astounding.

Helen shared his enthusiasm wholeheartedly and Nikola had quickly found that she could talk for hours if he gave her the chance. Not that she couldn't have done that before but now there was such a light in her eyes that Nikola felt the burning desire to allow her to speak for the rest of their days. It was foolish and not something he could keep to after he tore his attention back to what she was actually saying but there was such passion within her that it astounded him some days.

For all his life Nikola had been taught that women, while being passionate creatures when it came to their home comforts and fancy dresses, lacked true direction and passion like that of men. It was naturally a notion he had discarded early on after seeing the devotion of his mother to not just the home but also her children but watching Helen argue her view points with such passion on topics that he also found himself interested in was something different entirely. He knew some would view her as anything but feminine because of such interests but to him she was the most delightful contradiction. Her clothes and person were always impeccable (except for when a late night abnormal chase occurred) and her mind was equally so. The traits that some would see as masculine, to him only enhanced the beauty of her by providing the most wonderful contradiction.

Nikola had, in his life not once actually considered taking a wife. When he was a child he had known it was expected of him but, as he grew he'd disregarded the idea as his fear of germs grew and grew as well as his disdain for those who could not keep up with him but Helen, glorious, sweet, darling Helen was coming dangerously close to changing his opinion.

If he was to ever go back on his word, if he was ever to do something foolish and reckless and all together pointless, it would be to court her. Not that it would be pointless if it meant he won her heart. It was strange how much she had come to mean to him in such a short time. Women usually made little impression on him except for a general dislike of their more frivolous pursuits but not Helen. She had, from the very first moment captivated him. Of course, her beauty had started the attraction but he found it had almost faded as an influence on his feelings. It wasn't that he no longer could look at her and feel that bolt of unbridled, inappropriate lust because he most certainly could. It was more that now when he thought of her it was a mix of emotions that ran through him, her entire being making his heart beat faster. From her captivating mind to her enchanting smile he was hooked. Not that he could do anything about it. James and Gregory would no doubt kill him.

James, it seemed had taken it upon himself to act as her big brother. He looked out for her at every turn and while she sometimes fought his babying, he knew Helen appreciated his care. Gregory on the other had was fiercely protective. He scowled whenever Helen showed her affection for any of the boys and outright grumbled if she spent time with anybody one on one.

Smiling faintly at the memory of Gregory grumbling at John one evening, Nikola nearly missed his name being called.

Looking up, he scanned the busy path, frowning as someone jostled him harshly. He had been just about to berate the person when a small hand landed on his shoulder, forcing him to spin about.

"Helen!" he exclaimed happily, irritation at both the weather and those still jostling them evaporating.

"I've been calling to you for ages," Helen chastised with a smile, stepping closer.

"I was daydreaming," Nikola admitted before tucking her gloved hand into the crook of his arm. She walked close by this side, maybe a little closer than strictly proper but Nikola couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face at her warm body pressed softly to his.

"It's frightfully chilly," she commented as they walked together.

"And you are growing more and more British as each day passes," he teased, earning himself an eye roll for his troubles.

"Does that mean you want me to allow James to make the tea again?" she teased in response, making Nikola shiver. James had on only one occasion attempted to make the tea for them all and it had been a unanimous decision to ban him from such activities.

"Helen you wound me!" he exclaimed. "I had no idea you wished for me to die!"

She laughed before shushing him, giggling softly at the looks they were garnering. Laughing along with her, he hurried them along until they were on a more deserted stretch, enjoying the way her fingers dug into his arm.

Eventually they slowed to a more reasonable pace and Nikola let himself sink in to the sweetness of the moment. Together they strolled in silence for several minutes, occasionally asking some inane question before slipping back into their comfortable silence. It was only when the brim of her hat hit his cheek for the third time that he stopped their stroll towards the laboratories in favour of examining the garment.

"This thing is huge," he remarked, flicking the brim with a finger. Helen's eyes grew a little wider and she brought a hand up to her head.

"Don't you like it?" she asked.

Nikola pursed his lips, pretending to think for a moment. She seemed to see through the façade though, scoffing as she took his arm once more.

"It's perfectly nice," he said, placating her.

"Of course it is," she replied with a sigh. "It was a birthday gift from my father but I would have to agree with your assessment. It is rather large."

"Highly fashionable," Nikola remarked, ducking the brim as she turned to look up at him.

"Because you're so knowledgeable when it comes to feminine fashions?"

"These flower things?" he said, fingering one of the delicate rosettes sewn about the top. "They're in every shop window. I can't imagine why seeing as spring is so far off though. Do you suppose your father will get you the matching coat for this year's birthday celebration?"

"This was for my 28th birthday Nikola," she explained patiently. "As in this year just gone."

Pursing her lips, she stopped once more, readjusting the hat so that it was perched on her head at an angle.

"Better?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"It was fine before," he assure her, taking her hand and pressing a soft kiss to the back of it, letting his lips linger for just a second. He was rewarded for his efforts with a barely noticeable blush in her cheeks and he smiled, tucking her hand once again into the crook of his arm.

"When, may I ask, was your birthday?" he asked as they continued on their way. In truth, he'd been wracking his brain for the information since she'd mentioned it and he couldn't for the life of him recall if they'd ever discussed her birthday.

"August 27th," she replied. "And yours?"

"August?" he echoed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He stopped her once more, taking her hand as he turned her to face him.

"What on ear-."

"I missed your birthday!" he exclaimed, his heart sinking. How was he supposed to win her affections without showering her with tokens of his adoration for her birthday?

"Why does it matter?" she asked, looking worried.

"You should have told me," he muttered, toeing the ground.

"I will have another Nikola," she said, placing a hand on his arm, giving him a wide eyed look of disbelief. "And it doesn't really matter. I wasn't even here for the day, remember?"

"I could have at least done something," he grumbled, turning from her with a scowl. Now he felt like the worst of friends. How could he not have asked earlier?

"Nikola," she moaned, sounding exasperated. "Don't be so silly about this! I cannot stand celebrating my birthday so really, not doing anything was the best gift you could give me, alright?"

"Nice try," he allowed, brow still knitted together. She chuckled at him, shaking her head as she held out her arm to him. Sighing, he allowed her to nestle in against him once more.

"Why does it matter so much to you?" she asked quietly, her voice layered with something Nikola instinctively knew to be bad. Something to do with women and their ability to ask many questions within one. It was something several of his friends back home had warned about in many a drunken stupor. Well, friends was a loose term. They were merely the only other young men in the area that didn't spit when they saw him.

"Because..." he began, trailing off in uncertainty. Then he sighed. "Because I care about you Helen and as your best friend it is my responsibility to take you out to do things your father would not approve of for your birthday."

That, at least, earned him a hearty laugh, Helen clinging to his arm as she shook with mirth.

"Oh Niko," she said fondly, leaning against him more heavily. Then, all of a sudden she pulled him to a stop, glancing about quickly. Before he could react, she placed her hands on his shoulders and rose on her toes to press a soft kiss to his lips. It was not lingering or overly passionate, the entire affair being over before he could even react but still, as she landed back on her feet, smiling up at him softly, his lips were tingling.

"Now," she said, taking his arm again. "When is your birthday?"

Nikola cleared his throat and took a deep breath before replying.

"July 10th."

Then he groaned, doubling over as a solid thwack landed on his abdomen.

"What was that for?" he wheezed, Helen glowering down at him.

"You give me a hard time for not disclosing when my birthday is, not a very gentlemanly thing to do, may I add and then announce to me that your birthday too has passed!"

"Sorry?" he tried before grunting as he tried and failed to dodge the next blow to his shoulder.

"We even spent your birthday together!" she exclaimed, crossing her arms. "And you didn't breathe a word!"

"I.. it was not important," he tried, this time with a small smile.

She pursed her lips at him and he knew he was in for it.

"I'll have more birthdays than you," he said with a bit of a smirk.

Her face went absolutely blank for a long, priceless moment before her lips parted in a perfect O of indignation.

"Was that a jibe at my age?" she asked, voice deadly calm.

He hadn't even decided how best to deny the quip when a low moan of anger slipped through her lips and he found his head being beaten soundly by one of her gloves.

"You best watch out Nikola Tesla," she warned, still punctuating her words with hits he was struggling to avoid as she backed him up against the nearest wall. "Or I will do my best to ensure you never reach the practically ancient age of eight and twenty."

He whined at her treatment, shielding his head with his arms before seizing his chance during a brief pause. Reaching out he grabbed her by the arms, pinning them to her sides before dragging her body inappropriate close to his. Her eyes widened and for a moment he felt her press herself wantonly against him but too soon she pulled back, frowning at him.

"You know I'll never forgive you if you get me kicked out," she said with a disapproving look.

Grinning at her, Nikola stepped away from the wall and began to walk down the path.

"That's alright dear," he drawled over his shoulder. "Soon enough you'll be too senile to be here anyway."

Her growl of frustration reached his ears just seconds before her gloves came into sharp contact with his backside, forcing him to dash away with a laugh that turned to a yelp.

"Tesla!"

By the time they arrived at the door to their laboratory, both Helen and Nikola were out of breath, having practically run up the stairs. Nikola couldn't wipe the grin from his face despite the stitch in his side and, as he held open the door for Helen, he noticed that she was grinning too. Her hair was mussed, hat askew and cheeks pink with the exertion but he was certain he'd never seen a more beautiful creature in all his days. It made him long for a moment alone so that he could impinge on that beauty, hold her to him as he swallowed those plush lips with a thorough kiss. Just thinking about it made him shiver, earning a strange look from the three men who were already in the room.

"Sorry we're late," Helen said with a sweet smile, carefully unpinning the hat from her head. "Nikola decided to tempt me to kill him and I thought it best to give it a proper go."

James and Nigel grinned at words, shaking their heads at her mischievous grin but John scowled as if Nikola had truly affronted her.

"It isn't my fault her hat decided to assault me," Nikola replied with a shrug.

"Nor is it mine that you are a child," she said quickly, turning to give him another cheeky grin. "But I'm sure with age that shall pass."

Nikola laughed openly at that, smiling as he unbuttoned his jacket.

"You two are worse than children," James said fondly.

"And she calls us silly buggers," Nigel put in before turning back to his experiments with a chuckle.

"I maintain that is was Nikola's fault," Helen replied, tucking her hat and gloves safely out of the way before going to work on her jacket. Just as she began to shrug out of it, Nikola moved to help her, hanging it next to his on the only free pegs left. She gave him a small, sincere smile before turning away, much to his relief.

Although she'd been wearing similar clothes since they began their little group, Nikola still wasn't used to seeing her in a thin cotton blouse and tight fitting vest. Both items were almost threadbare and, as he'd learned, in the right light left nothing to the imagination. The days when she forwent the vest were the worst, the billowing fabric that reminded him of some older styled men's shirts making him unable to focus on anything but the way it tapered down to her tiny waist, tucked in to her great skirts.

It probably wasn't fashionable by any means but it was practical for the line of work they were entering into and he figured more comfortable than the low cut bodices she wore from time to time.

Smiling down at her, Nikola gestured for her to lead the way towards their bench. Today she'd asked to have him take notes on her dissection as practice for another they'd be completing that night on a poor abnormal that had suddenly passed away. Its physiology was close enough to a rat that she'd chosen to practice on one. Not that she'd ever admit it but Nikola suspected she was nervous. This was, by all accounts her very first solo dissection, her father having turned complete care of the task over to her. She'd only mentioned that fact in passing but the look of gratitude that appeared on her face as Nikola took her hand under the table had been enough proof for him.

And so, despite his loathing of goo and such, he sat opposite her on a small stool, pulling a notebook and pencil towards him.

"Begin Doctor," he drawled, giving her a smile, gesturing for her to begin. She rolled her eyes but smiled, grabbing her utensils as Nikola began the tedious process of notetaking.

They'd been at it for several hours, the sun beginning its descent through the sky. Nigel had gone and returned after attending a class while John had had to bid them farewell several hours previously. But Helen and Nikola still sat at their posts, working away diligently. They were onto their third rat of the day and despite his lack of interest in biological sciences, he was starting to understand Helen's fascination with the inner workings of creatures. These simple creatures were just as complex as some of his more intricate little inventions and although it had been a fact he'd known previously, watching Helen as she puzzled through things reinforced it.

The body truly was a wet machine, he decided as Helen carefully avoided the bowels (a lesson they had learnt back on rat one). It was disgusting and messy but there were similarities between his creations and this dead rat that he'd never even thought to contemplate before. It was strange but for all he'd had these thoughts before, this was the first time he'd been able to truly find an interest in dead creatures beyond those that ended up on his dinner plate.

Nikola was just about to voice this new revelation to Helen when there was a soft knock at the door. At once they all snapped to attention.

Helen's eyes grew wide as Nikola turned to her and, after the briefest of pauses, she scurried to remove her apron and hide all evidence of their work.

It wasn't that she wasn't supposed to be dissecting creatures or using the universities facilities, it was more that, depending on who it was who caught them, they stood to lose their ability to use this room. The lease had been granted to them on strict grounds and although mostly fair, many of the professors would see fit to have them removed because of Helen's presence.

In a matter of seconds the apron was gone, tossed under a desk and into the corner. The scalpel was thrust into Nikola's hand, the tray turned about to face him as she snatched the notebook from him.

Her cheeks were flushed with colour as she tried to reseat herself calmly, Nikola trying his best to look as if he wasn't completely nauseated by the sight before him.

Just as he leant forward, the door swung open, James stepping back to partially shield Helen from the newcomer. This situation was dangerous to her reputation in more ways than one.

"Ah, there you are," Adam Worth said, flashing them all a pleasant smile as he strolled in.

"Worth," James almost growled, squaring off his shoulders.

"Is there something we can help you with?" Nigel asked, striding from the corner he'd been ensconced in.

"I just came to chat," Adam said with another smile that made Nikola fight the urge to roll his eyes. "I heard you lot were havin' a bit of fun up here and-."

"And you took it upon yourself to join in?" James finished, arching an eyebrow.

"Hello there Miss Magnus," Adam cut in, leaning around so that he could catch a glimpse of Helen as he ignored James.

She looked to Nikola, eyes wide in askance but before Nikola could intervene, Adam stepped closer.

"And it's lovely to see you too Mr. Tesla, I've heard such great things about your work."

"Why are you here Worth?" Nikola ground out, tightening his grip on the scalpel. Something about the little weasel was off putting, making him want to throw him bodily from the room.

"I just wanted to see if maybe you wanted a hand with anything," he said, voice lilting. "But I can see I've intruded. I'll go now, I'm sorry for disturbing you all."

With a heavy sigh, Adam turned to leave, pausing reluctantly before beginning slowly back to the door.

"Perhaps another time Mr. Worth," Helen called out after him, standing up and leaning around James to give him a small smile.

Adam stopped, turning to beam at Helen, bowing his head solemnly before continuing out the door, a wide smile on his face.

"What did you say that for?" Nikola moaned as the door shut, turning back to Helen.

"I was only trying to be polite," Helen responded tartly. "I know none of you like him overly much but I can't figure out why. He seems perfectly nice and courteous, if a bit nosy."

Nikola caught James' eye and sighed, handing the scalpel back to Helen.

"He's a toad," Nikola drawled. "Only dangerous too."

"Now why would you say that?" Helen asked, fetching her gown once more before settling before the dead rat once again.

"Because he is," Nikola whined.

"His ideas are dangerous," Nigel clarified darkly from across the room. "I haven't heard anythin' concrete but what I have heard isn't good."

"Oh I do wish you'd stop believing in rumours," Helen complained, not looking up from the cut she was making. "You would faint to hear some of the things that are said about us yet none of them are true."

The three men shared a look and Helen picked up on the silence, looking up to them before settling on Nikola.

He swallowed.

"We have heard the things," he said slowly, eyeing her with a little caution. There was a gleam in his eye that seemed a little dangerous to him. "And to be honest, many of them are true."

"I am most certainly not part man and part woman," she bit back, face darkening. "And nor do I believe Nigel to have been participating in some less than savoury past times in the old library."

Nikola glanced over his shoulder, shooting Nigel a dirty look as the other man tried to hide his smirk.

"While your anatomy should not be up for debate," he replied, flushing slightly, "the fact that you do spend much of your time with four men, completely unchaperoned whilst partaking in 'men's studies' is true."

"And these are more than rumours," James added darkly. "He's been disciplined several times to my knowledge for some of his more dangerous ideas."

"Some of our ideas and work could be considered dangerous," she reminded them, setting down her tools. "And the idea that you would all discount him for such a fact astounds me."

James pursed his lips and stalked away to Nigel, leaving Nikola to resolve the issue.

"Why does this matter so much to you?" he asked quietly, lowering his voice and leaning forward.

She looked momentarily taken aback but then bit her lip, looking down.

"Because I know how it feels to be considered the freak," she replied, her voice barely audible.

"You are nothing like Adam Worth," he replied, reaching out for her hand only to retract it once more. She was wearing gloves yes but they were covered in bits of rat that had his stomach churning. She smiled in acknowledgement before slipping the gloves off.

"I know that but-."

"No Helen," he said firmly, taking her hand finally. She grabbed his fingers tightly, making his heart soar. "You are nothing like Worth and you should not feel guilty for excluding a veritable mad man from your work. Plus he's Irish."

"What do you have against the Irish?" she asked with a laugh, smiling at him at last.

"Guinness," he replied with a shudder, thickening his accent to earn another carefree laugh from her. Why making her laugh had become a pastime for him he wasn't sure but it was most certainly a very rewarding one.


	18. A very late birthday surprise

"Oh Nikola, can't you just tell me already?" Helen moaned, only just avoiding tripping on her skirts for what felt like the thousandth time.

"We're almost there," he promised, squeezing her hand gently as he continued to lead her through the halls.

"This is ridiculous," she complained. "We are in  _my_ home! How did I end up agreeing to this?"

"Because I promised it would be fun," he replied with a laugh. Sighing heavily, Helen let him continue with whatever his little game was this time. In truth she was intrigued. They were alone for the weekend with only plans to meet the others come Sunday evening for a dinner when her father returned from his trip down to London. She'd invited Nikola to spend the weekend on a whim and watching his eyes light up had made it worth it. Not to mention the fun they'd had in less than a day of being together.

It was late evening now and they'd spent most of the day studying in the library. Nikola had disappeared a few hours ago, leaving Helen alone with her books. She'd been lonely but refused to complain, he was a guest and under no obligation to stay by her side all the time. Especially when she'd practically insisted he treat her home as his own.

When he'd appeared back by her side with a wicked grin on her face, her heart rate had increased significantly. And then he'd produced a blindfold.

"Nikola..." she said warningly, punctuating the word with a heavy sigh.

"One... minute," he told her slowly, pausing for a second. Helen recognized the sound of a door opening before she found herself being guided through.

She listened to the soft rustle of clothes as he moved from her side and a momentary flash of panic seared through her body. Just when she was about to rip the blindfold off and give him a good talking to for deserting her, his hands appeared on her waist from behind and she had to fight the urge to lean back against his chest in relief.

"I know you said you don't like to celebrate," he said softly into her ear, squeezing her gently. "But I couldn't resist. Humour me, alright?"

With that he stepped back from her body and began to fiddle with the cloth around her head. It fell away easily and Helen blinked a few times before her eyes could focus on her new surroundings.

"Oh Niko," she said softly, unable to keep from smiling.

They were in the tiny study on the first floor, the one they rarely used. The curtains were thrown back, exposing them to the grizzly rain pounding against the window while a roaring fire warmed the room. But, more than the cosy surrounds, Helen's eye was drawn to the blanket spread before the fire. It was large and plush, littered with small cushions and dozens of plates, each piled high with sweets.

A steaming pot of tea rested on a nearby tray, accompanied by a bottle of champagne, chilling in a metal bucket filled with ice. And then, in the middle of the blanket, was a small pile note, the cream of the paper contrasting to the rich red of the blanket.

He'd pushed back the sofa's, making the little nest seem protected and homely. It looked to Helen like something from a fairytale. All her favourite treats were there as well as a few pieces she'd never seen before. Instantly, all thoughts of the meal she had intended to take him out for faded away. This intimate picnic was far more enticing.

"This is..." she trailed off, her entire body singing with joy. "Oh Nikola." She turned, smiling broadly at him before tossing her arms around his neck.

In recent weeks they'd spent only a very limited amount of time together, just the two of them. Their work with the Five had taken precedence and while Helen didn't regret the time they spent in laboratories, it had meant her long chats with Nikola had been cut severely.

He laughed into her neck, hugging her back enthusiastically.

"I'm glad you like it," he said, holding her tight to his body.

"It's wonderful," she assured him, leaning back in his embrace, unwilling to let him go too far. "Though I must ask, what prompted such a sweet gesture?"

His face fell slightly, his eyes taking on the appearance of a wounded puppy that made her want to hold him close once more.

"This is my gift to you," he said earnestly. "For your birthday."

At that she had to roll her eyes.

"Please?" he asked softly, tugging her a tiny bit closer as he gave her a hopeful smile. "I'm not asking for you to accept lavish gifts..."

"This  _is_ lavish," she insisted but the almost childlike expression on his face made her heart melt. "But it is beautiful and, I think, the most wonderful gift I have ever received."

His whole body lit up as she spoke and his face split into a wide grin.

"Happy Birthday Helen," he murmured, holding her tight to his body for a long moment.

"May I... may I make a request?" she asked as he released her, biting her lip.

"Anything," he swore.

"Can we... can we use this to celebrate your birthday too?"

He sighed heavily, giving her a pained look.

"Oh please?" she begged, taking his arm. "It would go a long way to making me feel less upset that you've gone against my wishes..."

'"But you said it was wonderful!" he exclaimed. "I thought you weren't angry at me!"

"I'm not," she assured him, stepping closer. "But please, for me?"

He sighed, shaking his head in disgust before taking her arm and leading her towards the picnic.

"Fine," he grumbled, a dark look on his face. "If we must."

Chuckling, Helen let herself be led to the picnic, smiling prettily up at Nikola as he gestured for her to sit.

She settled herself amongst the pillows, shuffling her skirts about until she was as comfortable as she could be given her constricting dress. It was perhaps a little more revealing than many of her dresses and tighter too but it was pretty and she liked the way the steel grey satin made her eyes look darker. Plus her father thought the dress too revealing and, as such, she'd found that wearing it in his presence was certain to provoke grumbles so she generally restricted it's use to days when he'd not cast a disdainful eye over her. The boring and utilitarian clothing she wore so often helped her appreciate finer fabrics and more daring cuts whereas her father seemed to want her to dress as a dowager her whole life.

She blushed slightly as Nikola's eyes caught on her exposed ankles and, with a devilish smile, she shifted the skirts just a little higher. His face reddened at the sight, forcing her to bite her lip to keep from giggling.

Just then, Helen caught herself, marvelling at her behaviour. She'd had nothing to drink of an alcoholic nature and nowhere near enough sugar to render her this giddy. It was... it was... it was Nikola, she decided, a little ashamed. It wasn't that she didn't absolutely adore him, more that despite the liberties they'd taken with each other, he was supposed to be just her friend and she most certainly didn't go around flashing her calves to James, Nigel or John on a whim.

But Nikola was inexplicably sweet to her and had made no secret of such affections, something that endeared him to her. All the other men in her life hid behind flummery and complex compliments. While she could appreciate the craftsmanship some days, Nikola's honesty was refreshing to say the least. She was at complete ease with him, she decided, which accounted perfectly well for a little inappropriate behaviour from time to time. And it wasn't as if Nikola would be so bold as to make something of it.

"You look ravishable," he told her suddenly, apparently picking up on her train of thought as he sat.

"That is not a word," she chastised, reaching for a strawberry from one of the bowls between them.

"It ought to be," he replied, sticking his chin out stubbornly.

At that Helen sighed and rolled her eyes before taking a bite of the juicy fruit.

"Here," he insisted, picking up the small note and handing it to her. His face coloured slightly at the action and he turned his attention back to the food as she accepted it from him.

Giving him a peculiar look, Helen gently unfolded the note, brow furrowing as she tried to dissect the strange words written upon it.

"Nikola," she began, frowning. "I'm awfully sorry but I cannot seem to-."

"It's Serbian," he said quickly, not looking up at her. "You have to translate it."

"But I don't know Serbian."

"Exactly."

Helen sighed, reaching out to cup his cheek. He raised his gaze to her timidly, a smile quirking his ever growing bushy moustache.

"You said you wanted to learn," he told her softly. "I thought it would give you an incentive."

Helen laughed softly at the memory of another rainy afternoon they'd spent holed up inside their laboratory, Nikola cursing vividly in Serbian when he dropped an entire pitcher of distilled urine on his jacket. Helen had joked that she ought to learn the language so that he would have to stop swearing like that only to have him reply in rapid Serbian, a wicked grin lighting his eyes. She had never managed to discern what the second comment had been though she certainly had suspicions.

"I'll... I'll help you," Nikola said quickly leaning over and pointing to one word with a long, slender finger. "Јелене," he said slowly. "It means Helen."

"Jelene," she repeated, testing the word. Nikola smirked, shaking his head.

"Jeee-leeene," he said again, grinning at her.

"Oh stop being so..."

"Right?" he supplied cheerfully.

"Insufferable," she corrected with a glare. Nikola merely laughed warmly at her, leaning back.

"You shall have to practice," he declared cheekily. "We cannot have the magnificent Miss Magnus sounding like a... like a..."

"Finish that sentence, I dare you."

Nikola simply laughed, grabbing a small sugared pastry from a plate.

"Eat," he insisted, still grinning wildly.

She snatched the treat with a pointed look.

"Don't fret," he told her cheekily. "One bite of that delicious snack and all my teasing shall be forgotten."

"You are awfully sure of your cooking skills," she told him sceptically and he scoffed.

"I am sure of Mrs. Walsham from down the road," he replied.

"Oh well, in  _that_  case," she teased, downing the tiny morsel in one.

"Now who's teasing?" he grumbled with a dark look and Helen only laughed.

* * *

"Your moustache is silly," Helen said with a giggle, propping herself up on an elbow as she gave him a goofy smile. Nikola smiled back, trying to keep his grin from being just as lopsided as hers.

"Is not."

"Is too."

"Is not."

"Is too. You look like a... a..."

"Now you are being mean," Nikola said with a pout, falling back against the nearest pile of cushions and nearly upturning his mostly empty glass of wine. Realising the sad state of his glass, Nikola groped around blindly for one of the bottle's they'd liberated from her father's cellar when his champagne had run out.

"We've run out of wine," she informed him with another little giggle. He looked over to her, admiring the way her freed curls formed a curtain behind her head only to have her break into another round of inebriated giggles.

"You have had too much to drink," he said knowingly, trying to frown but she only rolled her eyes.

"You had twice as much to drink as me!" she cried in outrage.

"Hardly!" he scoffed, sitting up only to have the room spin a little too violently for his taste. Pausing, Nikola thrust his arms out in an attempt to stay still, eyes bulging. Helen giggled and he shot her a dark look. "We had the same amount to drink Helen," he argued.

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"You are a liar and you are mean," he said, grabbing for the last biscuit on one of the discarded plates.

"I am not a liar!" she exclaimed. "You had that whole bottle all to yourself. And how am I the mean one when you just took the last biscuit?"

"You made fun of my moustache."

"Oh Niko," she said with a laugh.

"Don't you Niko me," he said accusingly, pointing the half eaten biscuit at her, managing to toss crumbs everywhere in the process.

A devilish gleam lit her eye and Helen swooped forwards, plucking the biscuit from his grasp and popping it into her mouth before he could do so much as gape at her.

"Mean!" he crowed, flinging himself back against his pile of pillows.

She laughed heartily at him.

"Oh come here Niko," she said, reaching an arm out to him. Nikola turned onto his side and away from her.

"No."

"Please Niko?"

He shifted further away, hiding a grin as she sighed heavily. He jumped as her hand landed on his shoulder, turning slightly but when she grinned in triumph, he shuffled from her grasp, causing her to almost fall over.

Her eyes flashed in fear but before she could fall into the scraps on the few plates between them, he grabbed her arms.

Giving him a dirty look, she wrenched herself free and settled back on her pillows.

"Why must you tease me so?" she asked, laying back and staring up at the roof, arching high above them.

Nikola merely chuckled throatily, rolling to his side to watch her.

"Because it's so much easier to do when you are intoxicated."

"I am not intoxicated!" she cried, turning her head to glare at him. She let her piercing gaze linger for a moment before she hiccupped violently, Nikola's eyes watching as her bosom jumped mightily at the action.

"We are both intoxicated," he said sombrely, trying his best to drag his gaze away from where her creamy skin disappeared behind miles of fabric.

Helen sighed.

"A little I suppose," she said dreamily before squirming slightly down into the pillows.

Nikola continued to watch her, the shadows of the fire dancing over her skin and dress enticing him. Her hair was free, loose ringlets fanned out around her head in a golden halo and begging to be touched. It looked like silk to Nikola's eyes. Her cheeks were faintly pink, from the alcohol and the fire he guessed and the hand that rested carelessly across her stomach was drumming restlessly on the stiff fabric. The dress bunched strangely about her hips, the contraption she wore not made for reclining as she was. He assumed it must have been uncomfortable but she was yet to complain. Her corset was still tightly laced, forcing her curves into a rigid shape that Nikola wanted gone.

He could almost picture her in his mind, like beautiful Venus but instead of standing on a clam, she should be painted like this, reclining on mountains of soft pillows, surrounded by luxury and decadence.

Suddenly an image popped into Nikola's head, a painting he'd seen not too long ago at some kind of exhibition. It was a lavish affair he'd been dragged to, probably by Helen and he'd taken little note of the paintings all evening but now one was in the forefront of his mind. It was the picture of a woman lying on her side in a voluminous nightgown with her golden curls tied back behind her head as a young girl curled up beside her, offering small pieces of fruit to her mother.

It was well done, he'd noted at the time but now he couldn't think of anything but Helen in that picture with the dark haired child curled into her side. In his mind the child had icy blue eyes and a slightly lopsided grin and though Nikola hated children, the thought was hard to shake.

"Nikola?" Helen asked curiously, a sweet smile dancing on her lips. "Is something the matter?"

"Of course not," he scoffed, waving away her words with an errant hand. "Though, may I ask, are you comfortable?"

Her eye brows shot up at his question and Nikola could feel his face flush.

"No! Not uh, not like that! I only meant that... your dress... it's tight and then, with all that... stuff beneath it..."

Nikola swallowed, certain she'd slap him for his inappropriate behaviour only to let frown as she began to splutter and giggle.

"Your... your moustache!" she cried with another giggle. "When you... when you swallow like that it moves as if it were its own entity!"

"I don't think I've ever heard you giggle this much before," he said with a heavy sigh, fighting the lethargy that was starting to pulse through his body. It was late and they were both very drunk and he'd been working away all afternoon to get this little treat ready for her.

"It's because you are being exceptionally funny tonight," she told him seriously as he hauled himself up, shuffling around on his knees until he was at her feet.

"Nikola," she asked, sounding confused. "What on earth are you doing?"

Nikola sighed and rolled his eyes before grabbing one of her feet and pulling it into his lap.

"What do you think I'm doing?" he asked, arching an eyebrow as he pulled off her shoe. She frowned at him but as he pressed his thumbs into the spot just below the ball of foot, she moaned loudly and slumped back against the cushions.

It wasn't something Nikola had done in a great many years, not since he was a boy in fact and it wasn't something he'd ever thought he'd want to do but the action had come from within him and not even germs could stop it. Well, they probably could have if it wasn't for the delicious moans she was letting loose.

He worked the tiny foot for a few minutes before returning it to the ground and starting on the other. Her sighs and whimpers of contentment continued to fill the space and ease the thoughts of hygiene from his mind.

When finally he thought her body to be completely relaxed he let the appendage go, placing it gently on the floor beside the other. She hummed sleepily before batting her eyelashes at him as a lazy smile grew on her lips.

His own smile growing, Nikola quickly traced a single finger up the middle of each foot, earning a giggle and squirm as she flinched away from the tickling action.

"Happy Birthday Helen," he said softly, capturing her ankles and giving them a light squeeze. She smiled fondly at him for a moment before cocking her head and pushing up onto one arm.

"Nikola," she said slowly, her eyes darkening in a way that made his body shake. "May I ask for something? In the spirit of my birthday celebrations?"

"Certainly," he replied softly and uncertainly.

"A birthday kiss."

"A birthday kiss?" he echoed. "Helen... I don't know..."

"One kiss," she said huskily, reaching out to him with her free arm. He watched as she wet her lips, tiny pink tongue stealing out and before he knew what was happening, he was leaning forwards, his body hovering above hers as she slowly lowered herself to the ground.

"H-happy birthday," he said throatily, unable to tear his eyes from hers.

"And to you too," she answered, one hand coming up to cup his cheek gently.

What harm could it do, he reasoned. It was just a kiss. Just one kiss.

Slowly he lowered his lips to hers, brushing them against hers chastely before pulling back up. Her eyes had drifted closed at some point but she didn't open them as he pulled away, instead frowning.

"A proper kiss Nikola," she insisted, looping an arm around his neck to keep him from slinking away.

He swallowed again only this time she didn't laugh. She shifted beneath him, her legs spreading to accommodate his body between them but he didn't dare look down to watch the satin of her dress rise up her legs to expose her white stockings. Her breathing was heavy too, chest rising to meet his with heavy pants.

His entire body wanted to comply with her suggestion but his alcohol ridden mind was trying its best to remind him why kissing her the way he wanted to was completely inappropriate.

"Nikola," she breathed, exasperation colouring her tone.

So he kissed her, lowering his lips to hers as one hand cupped her neck, long fingers massaging the base of her skull. Her lips moved sweetly against his, her hands resting on his shoulders. It was a sweet kiss, almost innocent but with an undercurrent so strong Nikola felt himself losing all rational thought. She tasted like wine and sweets and Helen. Her skin was soft beneath his hand, the thrum of her pulse beating into his palm.

Nikola let her tongue slip into his mouth but lost his balance as a tremor rushed through his body, resulting in him landing atop her body. She squeaked into the kiss but didn't relinquish his lips, one leg rising beside him with to thread over one of his.

He couldn't help the throaty groan that escaped him at that action, spreading his legs to allow her to wrap around him more fully. A hand left his shoulder to aid her leg, tugging her skirt out of the way as she arched her back. Nikola took the chance and brought his hand up into her hair, cradling her head as their lips danced together.

She was sighing softly beneath him, body moving restlessly as Nikola fought the urge to grab her by the waist and do despicable things with what appeared to be her very willing body.

Pulling back to suck in a lungful of air, Helen moaned, hips arching up to meet his through the miles of fabric separating him.

Carefully she pushed Nikola up with one hand, settling him on his backside before gathering her skirts and straddling his outstretched legs.

Not caring for propriety, Nikola reached for her hungrily, pulling her to his lap as their lips met once more. She sighed happily into the kiss, arms wrapped around his neck as she kissed him feverishly.

Nikola trailed his lips down her neck, his mind lost to the sweetness of her skin. When he encountered the top of one sleeve he frowned against her before tugging at the offending fabric until it slipped from her shoulder. Carefully Nikola kissed and worshiped the newly exposed skin, barely paying attention to the restless rhythm of her hips or the needy hands running up and down his neck.

"Nikola," Helen panted, "I... Wh-what are we doing?"

"Don't know," he growled, not giving up the sweet shoulder he'd uncovered. It was a struggle to make the words come out in English but apparently she understood, a throaty chuckle shaking her body.

"Lean back," she instructed but he ignored her, arms tightening around her waist as she pushed at him. He whined at the treatment but she was relentless, pushing until he lay on his back. She moved forwards slightly, careful to keep her skirts out of the way and suddenly Nikola could feel the soft heat of her thighs on either side of his stomach. His breath caught and she grinned down at him.

Slowly she reached forwards, taking one of his hands in her own. Her grin was enchanting and Nikola found himself watching, mesmerised as she brought his hand to her knee. Their limbs slipped under the bunched fabric of her skirts easily and Nikola had to fight a groan as his hand came into contact with the round of her kneecap.

She guided his hand up her stockinged thigh slowly before removing her hand and grabbing his other. It followed the same path on the other leg and soon enough Nikola realised, if he wanted more skin, he'd have to sit up. He did so swiftly, hands coming over to tops of her stockings to toy with the garters. She shivered in response but gave him such a heated look he had no choice but to kiss her.

She was ravenous this time, nails scrapping through his hair as they made an attempt to swallow one another whole. Nikola's hands dug into the soft flesh at the top of her thighs, brushing against more scraps of fabric until he could clutch at her bottom, dragging her as close as possible.

The idiocy of their actions flashed through his mind briefly but as Helen pressed herself against him with abandon, all such thoughts left his mind.

He felt her hands fiddle with his cravat, working at the knot for a moment and suddenly he felt too hot, leaning back slightly in invitation for her to undress him properly. She complied readily, grabbing his shirt and hastily popping the buttons. Never in his life had Nikola been so grateful to have gone without a waist coat.

Her hands felt like fire through the thin undershirt he wore and he soon found himself debating the pros and cons of removing his hands to tug at the bodice of her dress.

Just as he was about to compromise and draw one hand out from beneath her skirts, the door to the study flew open with a bang, making Helen jump in his lap but, thankfully she didn't release him.

"Miss Magnus!" the young maid he'd seen a few times cried in alarm. She was dressed for bed, a thin nightgown peeping out from beneath a thick wrapper.

Helen stopped breathing, her eyes shifting from the maid to Nikola's face slowly. He felt her begin to move and released her immediately, bring his hands to her waist to help her stand. She wobbled slightly but as Nikola rose beside her, holding out an arm to help her, she steadied herself.

Clearing her throat, Helen held her head high and glided towards the door in such a state of dishevelment that Nikola wanted to grin. Not that he could with his heart beating so fiercely. Her hair was hanging loose down her back, her gown crushed and lopsided due to his attack on her shoulder but to him it was the most beautiful vision ever.

The maid stepped aside for Helen, peering around the door way to glare at Nikola for a moment before following her mistress from the room.

Nikola paused for a moment, running a hand over his face and breathing deeply to steady himself. Shame and loathing pulsing through his body, he slowly made his way from the room, forgetting about the mess they'd left and the fire burning away softly.

He made it halfway up the stairs before he came across her, her bright smile visible despite the darkness.

"Hello there," she giggled in a whisper. "Feeling sufficiently chastised? Brigette was rather horrid to me and I doubt she'll ever forgive me but I think she's agreed not to tell my father."

Nikola tried to give her a weak smile but had a feeling he failed miserably. A tense silence descended between them for a moment but it was too much for Nikola, guilt overcoming him.

"Helen..." he started quietly, not daring to meet her eye. "I... My behaviour..."

"Don't be silly," she whispered, brow furrowing. "We're... we're intoxicated Nikola. You said it yourself. It was the wine that had us..."

He watched as she blushed.

"Perhaps next time we should limit ourselves to tea?" he offered with a small smile.

She giggled and cocked her head.

"Perhaps..." she allowed, a mischievous grin on her lips. "However, for now, I'd be much obliged if you'd walk me to my room and quickly. I seem to have forgotten my shoes and the floor boards are monstrously cold."

Relief washing through him, Nikola extended an arm to her, trying to banish the lecherous (and drunk, he reminded himself) thoughts from his mind as her warm body pressed to his side. She would most certainly regret her recent words and actions come morning but Nikola knew, at the very least, he'd have the memory of her mouth watering body until he could properly woo her and win her affections.

The thought was bolstered by alcohol and he knew it was the same substance that gave him the courage to give her a languid kiss goodnight but even if the resolve lasted for only a few hours, Nikola was pleased to have it.

The next morning however, he was less than pleased with his throbbing head.

And, it seemed, Helen was just as enthused.

Tea it was.


	19. Mistletoe (Take 2)

_December 18_ _th_ _1878:_

Helen was exhausted. She'd been working nonstop for hours now on the latest piece of information her father had brought back in his preparations for the trip to Mecca. It was supposed to be a record of a great civilisation that once lived there but she couldn't make heads or tails of it. The language was unlike anything she'd ever seen and bore no resemblance to anything else she'd ever studied. How her father expected her to be the one to make this breakthrough was beyond her. James was the one with a devotion to Latin and even John's studies of language would have been helpful to her but no, this was her 'private project' as he'd put it and she was under strict instructions not to allow the boys to help. Which was why she was alone and cold in their laboratory at Oxford when everyone else was out enjoying themselves.

Nigel and John had been the first to leave her, a meeting with a professor taking precedence over the discovery of the properties of Nigel's latest concoction. Nikola had been next, a disciplinarian hearing that he couldn't avoid dragging him grumbling and complaining from the room. Helen had laughed fondly and given him a peck on the cheek for good luck but nothing had penetrated the gloom of his spirits. He pouted at her with dark eyes before stomping away, muttering in Serbian as he went.

James had stuck with her until about an hour ago despite her attempts to throw him off. He'd watched her suspiciously as she hurried through her work whilst claiming that she was falling behind. The excuse of exams was a flimsy one but it seemed to work. They were fast approaching the end of the semester but while the work load had picked up, Helen was not struggling in the slightest. She, unlike many of the others wanted to take the exams and found studying not struggle. So much so that her father had actually joked that this little side project was to get her away from her studies.

Finally she'd been able to convince James she'd be alright on her own and he'd left with only two or three reluctant comments.

Since then she'd been hard at work, trying to piece it all together but was getting nowhere. It felt suspiciously like a fake artefact to Helen, the incomprehension she felt making her wish for the means to burn the blasted papers and rubbings. Her father was adamant that they were important in terms of their research into genetic variables and the emerging theory of evolution but she could see nothing but lines and dots.

Sighing, Helen scrubbed a hand over her face and pulled the text on ancient Greek closer to her before flicking back to the first page of documents. She traced a finger over the strange shapes carefully, brow furrowing as she tried to place them.

Maybe if she hid from the others tomorrow? A few hours in the ancient languages section of the library might do her a world of good, she mused. Perhaps a better look to Sanskrit might help her.

She toyed with the idea of getting up and leaving but decided against it. An hour or two extra certainly wouldn't hurt.

It was a good three hours later when she finally looked up to the great clock sitting in the corner and she groaned. It was far too late to still be in the laboratory.

She eased herself up and out of the chair, prepared to leave for the day when she heard a great thudding outside the door. Briefly her heart jumped into her chest, images of knife wielding murders flashing through her mind but then the door burst open without so much as a knock and she jumped back, barely stifling a yelp as she shoved the papers she was working on to one end of the bench.

"I figured it ou-."

Nikola's face fell, brow furrowing as he scanned the room.

"Where are the others?" he asked, panting slightly as he stepped in, brushing the snow from his peaked cap and jacket, going to hang them both by the door.

"T-they left," Helen stuttered, heart still beating a mile a minute. He turned and gave her a peculiar look before a grin spread across his face.

"Did I scare you?" he asked, half chuckling as he cocked his head.

She scowled at him, crossing her arms.

"You sounded like a wild creature thundering down the corridor like that," she replied, trying to make him feel bad but his smirk only widened.

"Poor Helen," he teased, "afraid of nasty old me."

"You are a horrible, horrible person," she muttered, turning away. He chuckled but follow her, and arm landing on one side of her waist and trapping her between his body and the table. She could smell the faint scent of sweat on him and each laboured breath he took brushed his chest against her back.

Her breath caught in her throat at the proximity. Since the 'birthday incident' as she had termed it a little over a month ago, they'd rarely been alone together. Helen hadn't exactly been avoiding such an opportunity but she'd be lying if she said that her behaviour that night didn't terrify her. They'd been touching each other so freely and Helen knew she couldn't blame it all on the wine. It had felt so good too, the sensation of his hands under her skirts was one she couldn't forget. Yet it was one she almost wished she could. No proper lady should want a man to whom she had no formal attachment touching her like that. She wasn't the most proper of ladies, she knew that but it was no excuse for letting things get as far as they did.

Nikola, thankfully had been wonderful about it. He'd greeted her with nothing except his usual affection the next day and aside from complaining about a sore head, he hadn't brought it up. They'd flirted a bit and he'd pecked her on the cheek once but that was it and while it brought her head no end of relief, it wasn't having quite the same effect on her body.

Helen knew the mechanics of arousal and she could identify the signs in her own body but what she didn't understand was why. She had no romantic feelings for Nikola, he was her best friend after all. She enjoyed his kisses, sure but even that didn't account for the fire he'd created that night. The only logical reason she could come up with was that her body was simply so unused to such touches that it was willing to overlook her lack of romantic attraction in favour of satisfying an itch she had no right to have.

It was an abhorrent idea to her and one she knew she would never, ever act on. It would be unfair to Nikola and completely inappropriate. She loved Nikola with all her heart and she'd not do something as despicable as give in to use him for such pointless ends.

But the feel of him behind her and the faint scent of sweat was doing strange things to her head. Vaguely she realised it was probably a very good thing it had been Nikola who walked in on her. If it has been James he'd probably not have been as understanding about the desire that made her want a hard male body behind her like nothing else. Nikola at least would be quiet about it whereas James would be startled by the change in her.

Because that's all she was after. A body, strong and warm to do the kinds of wicked things she'd only ever read about.

"Helen?" Nikola asked, turning his head to look at her, confusion in his eyes. She turned her head slowly, leaning back against him. His eyes darkened at the contact but neither moved, simply looking into each other's eyes.

Then, suddenly, Nikola sneezed and he jumped away from her. Helen laughed, nerves making her hands shake as she put a hand on his shoulder. He gave her a small smile as he hastily searched his pockets for a handkerchief, one hand shielding his face. Biting her lips to keep from laughing at him, she produced her own handkerchief, handing it to him quickly. He looked taken aback but accepted it quickly, turning and fixing himself before giving her another smile. They both looked to the soiled handkerchief in his hand and he shrugged, stuffing it into his pocket.

"I'll have it cleaned," he promised, a faint blush in his cheeks.

"Don't worry about it," Helen urged, trying to regulate her breathing. For all that their moment had been lost, she was still very much on edge.

He lowered his gaze, shuffling his feet.

"How was the hearing?" she asked suddenly, stepping towards him. "Are you to be kicked out yet?"

"Not this time," he answered wryly, rolling his eyes. "Though apparently they are 'seriously considering' such an action."

Helen sighed and sat back on her stool.

"You really must be more careful Nikola," she chastised. "What will I do if you are taken from us?"

"Sneak me back in?" he replied with a grin and she just rolled her eyes.

"I'm serious Nikola. What was it you did this time to anger them so?"

He swallowed and looked around nervously.

"It was nothing," he said hastily.

"Nikola..."

He pulled a face.

"What was it?" she urged. It seemed all the boys had known what he'd been pulled up for this time but none of them had given her a reason when she asked.

"Really Helen, it was just some stupid argument."

"About?"

Again he pulled a face before sighing and dropping onto the stool next to her.

"You."

Helen blinked.

"Me?"

Nikola sighed again and ducked his head.

She waited, not sure if she wanted him to continue but well aware that she needed him to.

When it became apparent that he was more than happy to stare at the hem of her gown she leaned forward, tipping his chin up with a finger.

He pulled away with yet another face and turned to look down at the table top.

Helen watched him for a moment, the crooked length of his nose casting shadows across the table. Long eyelashes fluttered over the pale skin of his high cheek bones and Helen wanted to touch them, feel the quick, rapid flutter of them against her own skin. There was something about him that was delicate despite his occasional brutish tendencies. He sniffed, moustache twitching and she smiled before slipping from her stool and dragging it closer.

Once certain that they'd be as close as possible considering her frustrating skirts, she slipped back up to sit beside him, her hand seeking out his quickly. He took the hand easily, still not meeting her eye but Helen just waited. He'd crack.

It took maybe two minutes, tops and then he was sighing, head drooping.

"Doctor Dimwit," he muttered darkly and she sighed in understanding.

"What did you say?"

Doctor Dimwit, as Nikola had termed him was their least favourite lecturer. They'd joked on occasion that he was as old as the university itself and as outdated as the content he insisted on sticking to. More than that though, he took issue with Helen for her gender and Nikola for his nationality, once insisting that she leave the room before he progressed with the more gritty details of whatever he'd been droning on about that day. She'd made a hasty defence but ended up leaving, red in the face from both anger and embarrassment. He was an absolute pain and the only class Helen had, on occasion skipped much to Nikola's glee.

In fact, she had skipped his last lecture, no more than three days ago. She'd been feeling poor and tired and even the thankless task her father had set her held more appeal than the glares the professor didn't even both to disguise.

"It wasn't me," Nikola continued softly, reluctance creeping into his tone.

"What did he say that you responded to?" she clarified wryly.

He shot her a smirk before dropping his gaze once more to the wood.

"He may have... made comment about absences in the class..." he said carefully.

"He noticed I was away," she clarified without even a trace of resentment.

"And I... may have taken issue with the phrase... hapless, half brained doxy."

At that she dropped his hand, moving to stand but Nikola was quick, grabbing her back. His eyes were huge and sad and she couldn't fight him when he gave her that look.

"I'm sorry," he said, rubbing a soothing circle on the back of one hand.

"For our idiotic, bigoted professor?" she asked with a humourless chuckle. "Don't be. Just stop rushing to my defence."

"Never," he replied, almost cutting her off in his haste. "Helen you have every right to be here in whichever capacity you desire and I won't allow that man t-."

She placed her hand over his mouth, smiling as his eyes bulged in surprise.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "But I am serious. There is no point in you being tossed from Oxford, out on to the street because of silly old me."

"So much for ancient wisdom," he teased, his words muffled by her hand. She rolled her eyes but he pressed a kiss to her fingers, making her start a little and withdraw her hand.

"Nikola..."

"I shall defend you for as long as they continue to question the validity of female enrolments."

"No," she corrected, crossing her arms. "You'll do so until they kick you out on your hide."

"Will you take me in?" he teased. "Put a roof over my head?"

"My heart is not that big and nor is my house," she bit back narrowing her eyes. He looked momentarily shocked at her words so she softened, smirking at him. "Unless you'd like to share chambers with my father?"

He pouted and rolled his eyes but she smiled, tension broken. For a moment they both remained silent but then Nikola shot her a dirty look.

"You want to know specifics, don't you?" he grumbled and she smiled prettily.

"Naturally. How else am I to deliver a witty response to whichever delightful barb he greets us with next time?"

"Can we just not go?" he whined. "I mean, we'd learn more in your father's library than that... that... ludak could ever teach us!"

"Translation?" she asked, cocking her head. She'd been working hard at the small book of Serbian phrases she'd been able to procure but that word was unfamiliar.

Nikola looked slightly guilty and she no longer needed translation.

"Right then, swearing. Excellent. Next time I hear that word in relation to something Nigel has said I'll box your ears in, understand?"

Nikola rolled his eyes so she slapped his arm.

"Your backhand is surprisingly strong for someone so tiny..." he muttered, eyeing her darkly.

"You must weigh half as much as I do!" Helen cried, slapping his arm again. "Now out with it. No more distracting."

Nikola sighed dramatically before pouting.

"I walked in late, he looked at me and opened his mouth. I replied. I was kicked out of the room. And have to write an essay as apology."

She merely looked at him and it was all he needed.

"Fine!" he moaned, throwing a hand up. "I walked in late, he turned and wheezed something along the lines of 'Where is your little doxy? Finally decided to leave her at home, have you?'. My response was... partly in Serbian."

"And?"

"And then we both started cussing," he said, waving her off. "I don't remember all of what he said so do not even think of hitting me again."

Helen barely heard all of what he said, her mind still stuck trying to comprehend the old man's accusations. They hit home more than she cared to admit. The idea of her wantonness was something she'd been wrestling with for weeks now and the idea that that horrid old man had picked up on some of her untoward feelings made her feel sick to her stomach. Many times she'd spent his class thinking back to more pleasurable times and more often than not, that involved memories of Nikola and moments they had shared. Did that make her a 'doxy' as he had put it? Did it make her improper and soiled?

"Helen?"

Perhaps there was something wrong with her. Perhaps she was behaving like an absolute wanton.

"Helen? Are you alright?"

How could she have let it get this far? She had been the master of her own mind and body for as long as she could remember. She was strong and disciplined and every inch of her life was reasoned and rationed.

"Breathe Helen!"

Only when his hands clamped down on her shoulders did she snap out of it.

"Helen," he said, voice tight with panic. "Are you alright? You stopped breathing."

Tears were in her eyes and she couldn't talk, only shake her head as she pressed a trembling hand to her lips. He paused, regarding her for a moment before pulling her into a fierce hug that startled her.

"You are none of those things," he whispered softly into her hair and it struck Helen as to just what a good friend he was to her. He hated this kind of contact normally but here he was, doing his best to comfort her. The realisation was like a balm that soothed her soul and she melted into him. He was her best friend and, she hoped always would be. He was almost too good to her for all the ridiculously feminine crises she'd had since they met.

"Oh Niko," she breathed, letting her body relax against his. He mumbled something soft into her hair but she simply closed her eyes and hugged him back, content to let the words get lost in her hair.

Letting herself melt into the moment, Helen sighed in content. Nikola had this wonderful quality about him that she found endlessly tiring yet unfathomably comforting. He made her laugh and giggle and blush and some days even hit him but in a matter of seconds he could turn from that mischievous best friend into the one person she felt truly at ease with. He comforted her and asked no questions, something her father wasn't always able to do. Nikola didn't judge in the same way her father did and, more than that, he made her feel less like the freakish creature many believed her to be.

With another little sigh, Helen pulled back, still wishing she could remain cradled to his chest. Their heights worked well, allowing her to tuck her head under his chin easily. Even though he was so thin there was a strength in his arms that made her forget about such things.

"So," she began, heart feeling lighter, "care to tell me why you were rampaging up here like an untamed beast?"

"I was not acting like-"

"You sounded like a herd of-"

"A wild animal. I was simply-"

"Elephants. The room was practically-"

"Excited. And I saw the light on, how was I-"

"Shaking Nikola. I could feel the floor boards-"

"Supposed to know you'd been left all alone by-"

"Practically vibrating beneath my feet!"

"The others, I mean, you're never alone."

Helen pursed her lips and he rolled his eyes.

"I had an idea, based around the work Nigel and James were doing," he said, running a hand over his slicked hair. "It's nothing..."

"It's not nothing," she countered sternly.

"Of course it is," he scoffed. "It was just some silly idea I came up with during the trial."

"Perhaps next time you ought to pay attention to the claims being made against you?" she suggested, smirking.

"Ah ha!" he cried in triumph. "I knew you liked it when I came to your defence!"

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms once more.

"Don't be silly Nikola, tell me of this new idea."

"Only if you tell me what you were doing here so late and all alone."

His smug smile made her want to stamp her foot like a child and it was only through sheer luck that she didn't.

His eye lit up at her reluctance to answer and he cocked his head.

"You're up to something," he said, tapping her on the nose with one long finger. Flashing her a grin he then grabbed her to him as he reached behind her. It took a moment for her to realise what he was after but then it was too late, she was already crushed to his chest as with one long arm as the other drew her papers towards them.

"No!" she cried, struggling to break free. "Nikola please!"

He chuckled and released her but not before making sure to put her behind his body.

And, much to her chagrin, he managed to keep her there.

With one hand he managed to subdue her whilst still scanning over the documents she realised she should have had the foresight to hide. He started still chuckling at her attempts to get around him but soon enough that trailed off along with the arm around her body.

Huffing, Helen stepped back to his side, trying to snatch the papers back but he carelessly brushed her arms away.

"Helen..." he started softly, voice filled with awe. "This is..."

"Not for your eyes," she snapped in response, gathering up the old scrolls before he could brush her off once more.

He said nothing, just looking at her with wide, disbelieving eyes and she really didn't blame him. There was very little that she did not share with their little group and even less she didn't share with Nikola.

"It's nothing," she said, blushing as she tried to shuffle towards the small, locked cupboard she usually kept the papers in. "I... It's... My father..."

"Oh."

Nikola said nothing and Helen felt even worse for her behaviour.

She tried to ignore the niggling guilt in her gut but Nikola's prolonged silence wasn't helping.

Taking a deep breath, Helen laid the papers back on the desk and gave him a tentative smile.

"I'm sorry," she started and his eyes flashed.

"No you're not," he stated plainly, making to walk past her. "Don't be silly."

She grabbed his arm quickly, pulling with all her strength until he turned back to her, eyes guarded.

"Now who's being silly?" she reprimanded. "Nikola I really am sorry. I shouldn't have snapped like that it's just..."

She took a deep breath but it didn't help her to continue.

"I didn't think..." Nikola said softly, not meeting her eye. "Don't be sorry," he said again. "You are entitled to have your own private dealings."

"It's not that," she said desperately, grabbing his arm lest he try and leave again. "It's just that my father asked I keep it to myself for now."

"I understand," he told her softly, eyes kind but it didn't help the frustration fermenting in her gut.

With a sigh she broke away from him and stalked to the window overlooking the dark courtyard.

"Not that's it has done me any good," she muttered, crossing her arms. "I mean, it is completely beyond my skill set and I'm yet to make any progress on it what so ever!"

"I'm sure you'll get there in the end," Nikola said softly, making her jump when his breath brushed the shell of her ear. He had somehow followed her silently and now stood by her side, one arm looped loosely around her waist.

"I'm not so sure of that," she replied, leaning against his shoulder.

"The great Miss Magnus is giving up?" he asked, voice laced with incredulity as he looked down to her.

"Oh of course not," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I'm just..."

"Fed up," he finished kindly, holding her a bit tighter. "Chin up, isn't that what you British always say?"

He drawled the word 'British', drawing it out until it was more like Breeeteesh which, as always made her smile.

"Perhaps you and your wondrous Serbian eyes could take a look at it with me another time," she offered with a smirk.

"My eyes are rather stunning," he allowed, running his thumb and forefinger over his moustache in a preening display.

"As is your ego," she replied, shaking her head and smacking his stomach lightly. Nikola merely laughed, turning to smile at her.

"Shall we go have a look now?" he asked eagerly but Helen shook her head.

"I've been here all day Nikola, I'm exhausted. Perhaps another day."

He sighed but as she went to move away, he stiffened, grabbing her arm.

"Nikola, really, I'm too tired tonight. I'd very much like to just go home."

"Look up Helen," he said solemnly, shaking his head at her assumption.

Frowning, she did as he said, starting a little at the sight above her.

Mistletoe.

Slowly she looked back down to where Nikola was trying his best to fight a grin.

"Why is that there?" she asked carefully.

"Nigel did it," Nikola said cheerfully. "Something about trying to capture your kisses."

"Did he now?" she asked, not entirely certain he was telling the truth.

"Cross my heart," Nikola said, his voice dropping a notch. "And if you recall, we've been in this situation before."

"Only then I was too much of a lady to mention it."

"My inability to be a gentleman is well established," he smirked.

"That's not true," she said softly, stepping a fraction closer to him. "You are one of the most kind and caring gentlemen I've ever had the pleasure to know."

His cheeks flushed in pleasure at her words but his eyes never strayed from hers.

"Shall we follow the same path we took before?" she asked after a beat, smirking.

"No."

She swallowed at the finality of his tone before her eyes darted back up to the plant hanging just above their heads.

When finally she was looking into his eyes, he raised a hand to cup her cheek gently and she couldn't help but lean into the touch as her eyes flickered closed.

His lips brushed against hers so gently that she barely felt the pressure until he set his lips firmly against hers. He kissed her resolutely but it was all so gentle, making her body melt as his lips continued their assault on hers. He made no move to deepen it or possess her as blatantly as he had sometimes but there was something so sweet about the kiss that Helen never wanted it to end.

His hand snuck up to her hair, holding her tenderly as she slid her hands up his chest to wind around his neck. Her fingers played with the few fly away curls that managed to escape his daily slick before tracing patterns on the soft skin at the nape of his neck.

Nikola sighed in content into the kiss before pulling back, brushing one last kiss against her now swollen lips before smiling warmly down at her. His hands released her slowly but he didn't step back.

Something warm swept through Helen's body and she couldn't help but smile.

"Get your coat," she said breathlessly. "I'll clean up and then we can walk down to the carriage."

He smiled in response and let her go.

As quickly as she could she cleared up the papers strewn about before grabbing her own coat and scarf. Nikola was dutifully waiting by the door, gloves and hat on and ready to go.

Opening the door he offered her his arm which she gladly took before casting one last glance over her shoulder. The candles were all extinguished and the fire in the grate was just about out. Safe enough she decided easily, allowing Nikola to walk her slowly down the corridor.

He said nothing as they went and even when they finally made it outside to the snow covered court yard, he remained silent.

But he never wavered from Helen's side, strong and warm as he hurried her across the snow.

She risked a glance up to watch his face for a moment and was stunned, almost faltering. His eyes were gleaming in the moonlight, face bleached white but it wasn't any of that that caught her attention. It was the fact that he was looking straight down at her. He wasn't watching where they were going or who might see them, instead watching only her with something fierce in his eye. He didn't even waver when she returned his look, simply smiling so softly that she wouldn't have noticed it if his moustache didn't twitch.

They slowed to a near crawl in their pace and Helen couldn't take her eyes from him. There was something very dangerous about the look in his eye but it intrigued her none the less. It wasn't something she'd ever seen before and especially not from the dear friend whose arms came to hold her by the waist loosely.

He opened his mouth slowly, smile growing as he started to speak but before the first word could escape a sharp cry reached their ears and they spun apart immediately.

"Miss Helen! There you are!" a young man called as he dashed towards them. "Your Pa sent me to get you. He said it's too late for you to be out all alone."

At that the young man eyed Nikola suspiciously but Nikola only smiled and stepped back from Helen, offering the newcomer a bow.

"Andrew," Helen said in greeting, trying not to sound too breathy. "You startled me."

"Sorry Miss Magnus," he replied, still looking sceptical. "But your father was getting worried. We really must get going."

"Oh... I- Nikola," she said finally, giving him a small smile. Nikola reached out and took her hand, bowing to brush his lips across her knuckles, eyes never leaving hers.

"Miss Magnus?" Andrew asked, offering her an arm. She accepted the hand but looked to Nikola, still uncertain.

"Shall I see you tomorrow?" she asked quickly, hopeful that whatever he'd been about to say would still be relevant in the morning.

"Do you really need to ask?" he replied with a quick grin, eyes dancing. She couldn't help but smile at his offhanded response and so allowed herself to be whisked towards the waiting carriage.

There was always tomorrow.


	20. Tis the season

Fighting a shiver, Nikola raised his hand to knock on the polished front door only to have it swing open before he could touch it. He blinked once in surprise before smiling at the man who held the door open.

"She was watching from the window," Nigel said in a conspiratory whisper, ushering Nikola in.

"Pardon?" he asked, brow furrowing as he eased his too small hat from his head. It was a gift from his mother that had arrived barely two days prior and he was determined to wear it. It smelt like home and had come filled to the brim with letters from his sisters, all of which were now tucked safely inside his wooden safe containing his most precious belongings.

"Helen," Nigel continued as the maid took Nikola's coat and scarf. "She's been waiting for you since I arrived."

"I didn't realise I was late," Nikola said, carefully picking up the small stack of wrapped gifts he'd managed to protect from the snow on the way over.

"You aren't mate," Nigel said, sounding exasperated. He muttered something else under his breath but Nikola didn't catch it, instead inspecting the Magnus Manor in all its Christmas glory. The roof was covered with wreaths and garlands of festive materials wrapped around fresh pine branches. Glittering baubles hung about too while vases of flowers that Nikola knew could never grow in such cold conditions were full to bursting.

He remained silent as Nigel led him further into the house. He took the packages from Nikola with a knowing grin, sorting through them as he walked backwards.

"Whatcha got here Tesla?" he teased with a grin. "Oooh, playing favourites with the good Doctor Magnus I see!"

He waved one of the larger parcels about before Nikola, making sure to keep it just from his grasp.

"Griffin!" Nikola cried. The other man took it as chastisement for stealing the crumpled parcels and, as such missed the warning he was being presented with, walking directly into a corner.

His head hit the plaster with a satisfying crack and Nikola grinned, ducking in to grab the gifts before Nigel dropped them in favour of cradling the back of his head.

He swore loudly but Nikola only chuckled, striding past him and into the ornate parlour that had been decorated with just as much enthusiasm as the rest of the house.

"Nikola!" Helen cried in delight, a bright smile on her face as she turned from her seat by the window.

She was a vision in white lace, the delicate material swirling and shimmering around her body like falling snow. The gown was trimmed with snowy white fur that nestled against her creamy skin in ways that made Nikola's eyes linger along each spread of fur. Her golden curls were pinned back from her face but cascaded down her back in long ringlets to reach her waist and her blue eyes shone bright. She had in her hands one of the brilliant red baubles from the decorations and was twirling it between long, delicate fingers.

She was a winter angel, a creation that belonged atop a Christmas tree rather than milling about with ordinary folk.

"Helen," he greeted softly, eyes glued to hers. "You look beautiful."

It was only the gruff clearing of a throat that reminded Nikola that there were other people in the room.

Helen flushed at his words, a small smile tickling her pink lips.

"Was that noise I heard before you two?" James asked sedately, eyes flickering up from where he sat by the fire. Gregory's dark eyes flicked over Nikola and he swallowed.

"Griffin was just helping me to prove my latest theory," Nikola said quickly, trying to fall back on the sharp attitude that had seen him through a fair few scrapes.

"Which was?"

"That he is an idiot."

The sharp shove at his shoulder did not come as a surprise but it caught Nikola off guard none the less and he stumbled, clutching his gifts to his chest.

"Bloody foreign bugger," Nigel muttered, stalking past him to drop into the free arm chair.

Nikola rolled his eyes but smiled when Helen did the same.

"You are both no better than children," she chastised, standing and smoothing out her skirts before gliding across the room to Nikola.

"He started it," Nikola told her with a shrug, biting back a smile as she sighed in exasperation. The childish jibe had been just that but there was something in Nikola that delighted in seeing her become flustered at their antics.

In truth he and Nigel got on well, in fact aside from Helen, Nikola would go so far as to say he was closest to Nigel than anyone else in their group but they took great pleasure in their verbal spars. They were not so clever or masked as when James and John decided to test their wits but their camaraderie came from their sniping.

"And I shall end it," Helen challenged, eyes narrowed. Nikola shook his head and made to walk past her but she took his elbow, halting him.

"What have you there?" she asked, looking to the packages still in his arms.

"It is Christmas."

"Well observed," James drawled, giving Nikola his usual slight smirk.

"Well they are Christmas gifts, Watson. I'd have thought your keen intellect should have deduced as much."

"Why have you bought gifts?" Helen asked sweetly, her head cocking as she regarded him strangely.

"Because it is Christmas," Nikola said once more though slowly understanding was dawning over him. He had made a grave error. There were to be no gifts at this Christmas Day luncheon.

"Nikola that is..."

"Astoundingly thoughtful," Gregory put in, finishing his daughter's sentence with a peculiar look. "Come, come then. Show us what you have bought. Helen, would you fetch those stored in the library?"

She nodded once, shooting Nikola a soft little look before striding out the door.

Nikola stood for a moment, looking at the faces surveying him with interest.

"Don't just stand there," Gregory said. "Sit."

Nikola obeyed the gruff command quickly, slipping onto the nearest couch without a word.

The silence was tense, almost painful and Nikola swallowed, resisting the urge to drum his fingers against the paper on his lap. All eyes in the room were carefully trained on him, James with his bemused smirk, Nigel with his smug superiority and Gregory... Well, there was something peculiar in his gaze that Nikola could not pick out but made him feel as if he were on complete display for the man.

He tried not to squirm under their gazes. He felt distinctly out of place, something he was used to but not with these people. He was the odd one out yes, but James and Nigel had never regarded him with such blatant curiosity before.

Gregory was a different matter entirely. Nikola had never managed to feel at peace in his presence, mostly because of the way the man regarded everyone to whom Helen showed affection as veritable devious rakes intent only on stealing Helen's virtue. Even if Nikola had had an alarming number of dreams that led to such actions, he felt that the glares were wholly unwarranted but he couldn't very well say as much.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out, not meeting anyone's eye. "I... I shouldn't have bought... this."

He gestured to his lap lamely, trying not to flush with colour.

No one spoke.

"My family... we always... I didn't think."

Why he suddenly felt this need to fill the silence between them he had no idea but the words were practically jumping from his lips.

Thankfully Helen seemed to take that as her cue to re-enter the room, a large wicker basket clutched to her chest as she swept back in.

"I'm sorry that took so long father, I simply couldn't carry them all and then Elsie was rather reluctant to give up her basket for the cause."

"No matter," Gregory said smoothly as if he'd not been levelling hostile glares about the room. "Sit Helen, I feel we've made young Mr. Tesla a little unsure of himself."

"Nikola? Is something the matter?" Helen slipped into the space beside him, giving him a radiant smile before leaning out to place her basket on the coffee table before them.

"No, no," he assured her quickly, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks again. "I was simply..."

He looked down to his sad parcels and in an instant decided to forget about them. Quickly he tucked them by his feet, out of the way before straightening and returning her smile. She frowned, obviously noting the lack of sincerity in the gesture.

"Is that John's carriage?" James asked, cutting through the strange tension in the room. Nikola was immensely grateful in the moment for the interruption, certain he couldn't take another of Helen's pitying little smiles.

He worked hard to assure that he was rarely on the receiving end of such things and while he did enjoy the fact that she had, on occasion squeezed his fingers in what he supposed was a comforting gesture, he did not need her to console him for mistakes he had made.

"I believe it is!" Helen said with delight, standing once more. "I shall go greet him."

And with that she left once more in a flurry of white lace. Nikola almost smirked as he took in Gregory's renewed dark expression. Apparently he wasn't the only one who had seen the romantic threat Druitt proposed to Helen. She was blissfully unaware of the attraction it seemed but it made Nikola uneasy none the less.

They were all silent, listening to her skirts rustle softly in the distance before the door creaked open. Muted voices and shoes on polished floors echoed down to them but nothing was distinct. Druitt's dark, rumbling voice was followed by her sweet laugh as she responded. He chuckled at her words and then there was a strange silence.

The silence made Nikola tense, waiting for some idea of what was going on but her giggle that eventually made its way to their ears was not reassuring. It was high and breathy and more feminine than she normally sounded.

They appeared together in the doorway, Helen blushing ever so slightly as she stepped away from John and hurried back to where she'd been sitting with Nikola.

"Merry Christmas," John said warmly from his place in the door way. "Though I have to apologise. I can't stay for long, my mother has requested that I return home for the holidays and... I am loathe to disappoint her."

"Oh John, then you must go," Helen enthused, whatever had been making her blush before forgotten in an instant. They all knew of John's mothers precarious mental stability, he'd mentioned it only briefly but James and Helen had drawn the truth from him one evening as they sat around their latest experiment. It had been the only time Nikola felt a twinge of affection for the other man, understanding all too well the overwhelming urge to care for one's mother.

"Not right away," he said, giving Helen a warm smile. "I have a good hour before I must depart if I am to make it in time for dinner."

"But-."

"I wish to spend my Christmas here, Helen," he said, cutting her off. His voice was warm and seductive and it made Nikola want to empty his stomach. Everything about John was designed for seduction it seemed and he flaunted the fact. Nikola knew of the man's dalliances as much as he knew of Nigel's and he didn't think it right. John had made his budding attraction to Helen perfectly clear to all of them which made his occasional trips to the back alleys of Oxford even the more puzzling to Nikola.

In his mind no one who wasted their time on women in that situation deserved to have the heart of Helen. She was so pure and brilliant, it was unfair to even think of tainting her with the comparison to women of that station.

And, it seemed, Helen was falling into his warm voice, smiling broadly once more.

"Well then," Gregory cut in darkly. "Shall we get on with the gifts?"

The heat returned to Nikola's cheeks in a flash and he wanted to sink back into the sofa he'd perched on. His humiliation seemed far too enjoyable to Gregory for his liking but before he could make a comment to that effect, Helen leaned towards her basket, fumbling through it.

"I apologise for not having these already laid out," she said, voice muffled as she continued to sort through the basket. "But my father was most insistent that you'd all not even think about participating in something as trivial as gift giving."

"I never said that Helen."

"I believe the words you used were childish and overly familiar," she countered, looking up at him with a smirk. "However I did manage to locate gifts despite his protests."

Straightening up, Helen stood with two parcels in her arms. They were wrapped neatly, tied with thin ribbons and each bore a small tag with Helen's fine cursive on the front. She made her way around the room, depositing both Nigel and James' presents in their laps with a "Merry Christmas" for both of them.

Nikola watched in fascination as she glided about, looking serene and calm, as if made for this very purpose. It was boggling to him that someone of such delicateness and grace could have such a sharp mind and wit too.

She gave him a warm smile as she caught his gaze and he couldn't help but smile back. He watched as she scooped up another gift, almost tossing it at her father.

"Merry Christmas Papa," she said teasingly before settling beside Nikola once more.

He caught it and chuckled, shaking his head.

"You spoil me darling," he said warmly, eyes twinkling and for once Nikola saw the man Helen spoke of with such fondness. He looked years younger when he smiled at his daughter, none of the old codger whose name alone could conjure up fear in even the most stoic of students. Or lusting men, which ever the case may be.

James' sudden laughter caught Nikola's attention, dragging his gaze over to where the man was holding a small book, eyes twinkling as he smiled warmly at Helen.

"Considering the rate at which you destroy your dress shirts I thought it prudent," she told him, smiling sweetly and fluttering her eye lashes.

"What is it?" Gregory asked, leaning over to peer at the book.

"A note book filled with, and I quote, 'all that one must have want to know of embroidery and other dreadful tasks'," James replied, reading from inside the front cover. "I have, on several occasions remarked to Helen of my constant need to employ someone to darn the sleeves of my shirts and it seems she's come up with an even better solution."

Helen chuckled softly, lips quirking as she attempted to keep a straight face.

"I think I got the better gift, mate," Nigel cut in, waving a small flask at James. "I've been looking at this for weeks."

"You should have seen the looks I received when I purchased it," Helen told him. "I'm afraid I gave the poor shopkeeper a heart attack."

"He'd probably never seen such a beautiful woman in his establishment," John put in, puzzling over his own package. He was yet to open it, instead running his hands over the paper covering it.

"Oh do hurry up, John," Nigel put in. "Some of us want to have lunch before the sun sets."

John merely rolled his eyes before carefully tearing it open to reveal a fresh copy of  _Anna Karenina_. His eyes lit up as he looked to Helen, a genuine smile across his features for what felt like the first time ever to Nikola.

"I cannot thank you enough..." he began, eyes ablaze.

"Think nothing of it," Helen said, waving him off. "I am simply pleased you like it."

John looked as if he was seriously considering composing an impromptu ode to Helen but, to Nikola's pleasure, he refrained, allowing Gregory's heavy sigh to draw everyone's attention.

"Very clever," he said, shaking his head at Helen though Nikola could just pick up the faintest trace of humour in the older man's smile. "It's a voucher," he supplied to the perplexed onlookers, "entitling me to a laboratory free of her destruction next time I have to travel."

Helen dimpled at her father and Nikola couldn't hold back a soft laugh. This mischievous side of Helen was one he'd seen rarely despite how alluring it was. She seemed at ease, comfortable with having her home filled with these men. He hadn't seen her this relaxed in some time and it warmed his heart to think that he was a part of what she clearly regarded as her family.

"And Nikola?" Nigel put in, "What did you get?"

"Oh my!" Helen cried, thrusting the last package into his hands. "I'd forgotten completely. Merry Christmas Nikola."

"You shouldn't have," he said on instinct, fiddling with the edge of the wrapping.

"Hurry up and open it," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Impatient."

"Ungrateful."

"Rude."

"Insufferable."

"Unkind."

"Children," James cut in with a sigh. "Hurry up and open your gift, Nikola before either of you start goading one another in a different language."

Rolling his eyes at the chastisement, Nikola began to pry back the paper until it fell away to expose a ruby red bunch of fabric. He ran his fingers over it, marvelling at how soft and fine the thread was before lifting it gingerly to allow the scarf to flow out and over his fingers.

"It's beautiful," he breathed, caressing the soft wool once more before turning and looking to Helen. Her eyes were shining but she nodded once towards the scarf, urging him on.

Uncertain as to what she wanted, he inspected the beautiful garment once more, flicking it over to find a small piece of fabric sewn into the corner. On it were his initials enhanced with flowery, overflowing script that showed a dedication he had never expected anyone to show such an insignificant pair of letters.

"Did you..."

"Not the scarf no," Helen said, shaking her head. "But I know how often you complain of your belongings going missing so I thought I ought to make sure it stuck out as yours."

He traced a finger over the embroidery once more, smiling softly.

"Thank you," he whispered, not looking up. It was so... so... so lovely and wonderful and it made his insides feel queer. It was almost like something his mother would gift him with the amount of work that had clearly gone into it.

Smiling broadly at her he wrapped the scarf around his neck regardless of the fact they were inside. She chuckled softly at him, shaking her head but before she could speak once more, Nigel interrupted them.

"Enough mooning you two, show us what you bought, Tesla."

Nikola rolled his eyes before beginning to distribute his gifts, passing about the poorly wrapped parcels quickly but making sure that Helen was the last to receive hers, allowing him the chance to press it into her hands, fingertips lingering on her exposed wrist for a short moment. The shiver that resulted made him smile and took the edge of the nerves he still felt at his rather inferior gifts. Had the others all bought some he'd have felt less out of place but as it stood, he felt like an idiot for thinking that such things would be appropriate.

John's book of poetry was received with thanks but a disbelieving eyebrow while James' handmade smoking pipe received more than one admiring glance.

"One of the men in my home village made it," Nikola admitted. "He is the most skilled craftsman I have ever come across and I thought it would go well with your," he waved a hand in James' general direction, "look."

"My look?" he echoed, finally dragging his eyes from the elegantly carved pipe.

"The whole mysterious, elderly man," Helen supplied with a grin.

"Wow," Nigel breathed, ignoring the others completely. "Is this..."

"I wasn't sure if it was what Helen and I broke but I thought-"

"This is... How the hell did you get your hands on this stuff, Tesla?"

"What is it?" Helen put in, frowning.

"Do you remember the vials you stepped on a while back?" he asked, noting with glee the colour in her cheeks. She had stepped on them because they were kissing and she had not been looking out for much more than a place on which she could balance as Nikola had worked to drive her insane with his kisses.

It had worked and Nigel's chemistry set had met an untimely end.

Nigel laughed.

"I should let you pair break more of my stuff if this is what you get to replace them."

Nikola barely held back a chuckle at Helen's suddenly rigid pose, working to remind himself that her father was in the room, thankfully absorbed in unwrapping the package of homemade toffees Nikola had asked his mother for. The note she had enclosed had asked if they were for a woman he intended to bring home and while the thought made him smile, the letter in response had been strongly worded in loving chastisement. Secretly he dreamed of taking Helen back to Serbia, certain that, despite the language barrier she would adore the entire experience. Her curiosity would make the trip fantastical and somewhat boring in so much as she'd no doubt require explanation for everything they came across but the idea of watching her traipse up the small garden path to his childhood home held a strange kind of appeal.

"Thank you for these, Tesla," Gregory said gruffly, popping one toffee into his mouth. "Where'd you get them?"

"My mother," he said simply.

"And Helen, what did you get?" John asked, voice laced with incredulous curiosity.

She tore away the paper quickly to reveal-

"Oh Nikola," she said with a laugh.

"If I'd have known I'd have picked another colour," he said, bowing his head in slight embarrassment. Helen only laughed again, holding the rough red scarf up for the others to wee.

"It's wonderful," she said fondly, breathing in the scent. "We shall simply be a matching pair."

"It will make you both easier to pick out as you scamper around the library," John said fairly.

"I was considering purchasing small bells for you both but I suppose this will do," James added as Helen wound the scarf around her throat. She rolled her eyes before turning to Nikola.

"How do I look?"

"Wonderful," he answered instantly, reaching forward to brush a small curl back from her forehead. She caught his hand as he pulled away, lacing their fingers as she turned back to the rest of the group, settling into her seat.

"I told you gifts were an excellent idea, Father," she teased fondly. Gregory chuckled but Nikola caught the way his eyes stuck on the hand that was still clasped in Nikola's. Swallowing, he carefully loosened her grip on his fingers, shifting back into the couch and although the move didn't feel at all natural and he missed the warmth of her hand, the way Gregory's dark gaze cleared made it all worth it for Nikola.

"Alright then," Nigel said cheerfully. "What's for lunch?"

* * *

He knew she was around here somewhere and he was determined to find her before either Nigel or James were sent to find them both, John having left before lunch even started. They had a very limited window and Nikola was not willing to let the chance slip by. He'd have preferred to do this the evening before but he had been able to come up with no reason as to why they should have spent the evening together without giving away his true purpose.

So he was settling for a stolen moment in a corridor he was unfamiliar with.

"Nikola?"

He breathed a sigh of relief, turning to find Helen standing at the end of the corridor.

"I've been looking for you," he said, hurrying towards her, working to keep his footsteps quiet.

"Is something the matter?" she asked as he approached, eyes growing cautious. "Did my father need something?"

"No, no," he said, waving her off. " _I_  was looking for you."

She smiled softly, cocking her head and taking a step closer.

"I said I would be back in a moment, I merely had to freshen up. Could you not wait a minute to see me again?" she teased and Nikola rolled his eyes.

"While I do enjoy your company I fear flattery has done terrible things to you," he chastised, catching her hand as he tried not to smile too broadly.

She leant against the nearest wall and Nikola found himself leaning in to her slightly, the dark, chilly corridor coercing him into making the most of her body heat.

"But I do enjoy your attempts at flattery, Nikola," she whispered with a smirk, one hand coming up to toy with his collar as he braced his arms on either side of her. "You have a very unique way of butchering compliments."

"And you are a horrible, horrible friend," he replied. "Perhaps I shouldn't have bought you a gift after all."

"But I like my scarf!" she replied with a grin. "It goes so well with yours."

"Oh not that," he said dismissively. "I meant your gift in celebration of our anniversary."

She gave him a peculiar look.

"We have an anniversary?"

"Helen, how could you have forgotten?" he asked, pretending to be hurt. "We have been friends for precisely one year and one day."

She laughed softly, shaking her head before she paused.

"I think you need to check your mathematics, Nikola. We became friends on the first day of the new semester which is two weeks from today."

"No, Watson's party, remember?"

"We were not friends that night."

"I considered you my friend from the moment you took that seat beside me," he told her softly. He tried to keep the clench from his heart that had him feeling dizzy but it was no use. The words were out and regardless of how vulnerable that made him there was nothing he could do.

Helen smiled fondly up at him, cupping his cheek and on instinct he moved in closer.

"You are far too sweet some days, Nikola," she said warmly before stepping from his embrace. "And if you give me one moment, I shall retrieve your gift."

With a small smile she darted into the nearest doorway, leaving him abruptly alone and once again nervous. What if they were caught? Surely Gregory would have his hide for stealing this moment regardless of how innocent it may be.

But Helen returned quickly, something small clutched to her stomach.

"I had intended to wrap it and include a letter but all I'd managed was a small note in the front so you will have to forgive me," she whispered, handing over a small leather notebook. It was thick and sturdy and would no doubt keep the contents safe from all manner of accidents. Not that there would be any contents. Nikola rarely kept notes, finding them inordinately difficult to sort through. There were times when he found such an action necessary of course but he much preferred to avoid the papers when possible.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, opening the cover to find Helen's elegant hand across the front page.

_Nikola,_

_I cannot imagine my life without you._

_All my love,_

_Helen._

_8.1.77 – until you can stand me no longer._

He looked up into her bright blue eyes and could do nothing except smile.

"Do you like it then?" she asked eagerly. "I was so worried that you wouldn't remember so I didn't want to get anything too outlandish and I struggled to think of a single thing that you might truly need-"

He cut her off by placing a finger against her lips.

"It is wondrous Helen," he said firmly. "Both this and the scarf... You're... You are too kind to me."

"Oh nonsense," she replied happily. "You are my best friend, Nikola. I shall be eternally grateful for the companionship you have shown me this year just gone. I'd never have survived without you."

He could feel a rise blush in his cheeks so really, he had no option except to kiss her. She responded eagerly to him, back arching away from the wall so that his arms could slip in and hold her tight while her arms made their way around his neck. She was so warm, heat radiating from her skin and Nikola soaked it in. Despite the cool breeze that wafted through the corridor he felt hot, an insatiable need to be closer to the fragrant and all together delectable woman in his arms. She smelt of Christmas and of the wine they had been drinking and of something spicy and something sweet and he couldn't breathe but he didn't need to. He could taste her too and it was heaven.

Finally she broke away with a breathless laugh, eyes dancing merrily.

"And what of my gift?" she asked.

It took Nikola a moment to realise what she was talking about and he spluttered breaking away as he reached for his jacket, silently cursing. He'd been so good at remaining calm today, holding back and acting as if her mere presence wasn't enough to drive him to the brink of sanity and now he'd gone and blown it. His intention had been to make  _her_  kiss  _him_  rather than the other way around and now he'd gone and blown it in a rather enthusiastic fashion.

It took a moment for him to locate the gift, digging through his pockets until he was able to produce a small bundle of fabric.

"Happy Anniversary," he said, handing it to her carefully. She leaned up and pecked his cheek before peeling away the fabric to reveal a small stone dove.

Her soft gasp did not go unnoticed and nor did the way her hands traced the roughly carved figure.

"It's beautiful."

"It's not," he assured her. "But I have my white dove and now you have yours."

He didn't think it prudent to mention that clearly he had two white dove now, one of which stood mere inches from him.

Slowly she looked up at him, smiling so softly and so sweetly Nikola thought he'd never seen such a beautiful sight. With her dove clutched in one hand she moved towards him, her free hand slipping around the back of his neck as she drew him down for another, far softer kiss. She pressed the hand holding her gift into his back as he held her tight and their lips danced slowly. Nikola knotted one hand in her long hair, cradling her skull as he attempted to drink in every facet of the encounter right from the way her soft lips felt to the sensation of her skirts brushing against his legs.

It was only when the sound of footsteps on the nearby staircase sounded that they pulled apart. Helen blinked up at him sleepily, her lips ever so slightly swollen from their kiss and it took everything Nikola had not to press his lips back against hers. Instead he stepped back, offering her his arm.

She quickly tucked her stone bird into a pocket he hadn't realised was there before threading her arm through his.

"Shall we have a drink?" she asked, her voice clear enough to be heard by whoever was approaching. "To celebrate our anniversary," she added in a near whisper. Nikola smiled and nodded before clearing his throat.

"Of course, allow me Miss Magnus. We wouldn't like anyone to happen across us up here all alone. Someone might think I had impeached on your modesty."

She let out a fake shocked gasp before dissolving into laughter.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it you two," Nigel's harassed voice came from below. "Now hurry up and get down here before I have to make up rumours about Helen impeaching on your modesty, mate."

"Since when was Nikola modest?" Helen asked curiously as they started towards the staircase.

"More importantly when did Helen learn to impeach on modesty?" Nikola bit back, earning an eye roll from Nigel as his head appeared part way down the staircase.

"You are a horrid, horrid man Nikola Tesla," Helen put in, turning up her nose. "I've half a mind to push you down the stairs this very moment."

Nikola scoffed.

* * *

_**Six Days Later** _ **:**

It was another of Watson's famous parties only this year neither Helen nor Nikola were the strangers. Both knew the majority of the other party goers but, more importantly, had a prime spot on the frosty river bank beside three others, sharing a bottle (or six) of wine between the five of them.

James had been wandering about, abandoning them to their own devices to play host to the outdoor party of nearly frozen guests. The novelty of the party had worn off within an hour of everyone's arrival but spirits were still high thanks to the rather large amounts of alcohol that had been passed amongst everyone.

Now, with the climax of the night quickly approaching, James had returned to their little 'picnic' of sorts with a large glass of brandy in hand.

Nikola was freezing and his feet half frozen in his boots and he had been complaining bitterly for the better part of the evening. Nigel had, after a large swing of brandy, tossed a handful of snow in his direction which had resulted in a very brief snow fight between the pair. Only when Helen had threatened to pour out both the wine and the brandy had they both retired from the game.

"Thank you for this James, it's been a lovely evening," Helen said, hand resting on his arm. Her cheeks were pink from the cold and the wine and she was smiling freely at everyone. Try as he might, Nikola had failed spectacularly at capturing her undivided attention all evening and was now sitting in one of the small chairs off to the side, watching the night sky as the sounds of the party washed over him.

"10!"

He sat up. He'd been waiting for this moment.

"9!"

He'd only really come for this chance...

"8!"

... the chance to kiss her in public.

"7!"

He licked his lips and stood...

"6!"

... heading over to where the rest of the group stood.

"5!"

She was counting along with the rest of them, eyes blazing.

"4!"

She looked so beautiful, all rugged up with his bright red scarf tucked under her chin.

"3!"

She caught his eyes, holding out a mitten covered hand to him as she gestured for him to come over.

"2!"

This was it, this was their moment. This would change things.

"1!"

There was the customary pause as everyone held their breath, waiting for the new year to start.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

Cheers flew up from the bank as glasses clinked but Nikola was paying no attention, staring intently at the back of Helen's head. Her lips were on James' ever so briefly before she pulled back with a happy laugh.

"Happy New Year James," she cried easily.

He fought the urge to tighten his grip on her hand, there was no need to seem petulant that she'd not kissed him first.

Perhaps he'd be next?

But alas, Nigel was the next to claim her kiss, lingering a little longer than proper but Helen merely laughed merrily, patting his cheek before letting go of Nikola's hand and stepping towards John whose arms opened as he swooped down to claim his own kiss. Again it was lingering but, unlike with Nigel she made no move to push him away.

Nikola's blood boiled while his heart froze.

He watched in horror as she pulled away with a small smile, eyelashes fluttering. She looked like a girl, not the woman she was and it broke his heart. John's arms stayed around her waist for a moment longer, fingertips dragging across the fabric of her coat as he slowly stepped back to an acceptable distance.

And then, finally, Helen turned from him and smiled at Nikola.

She stepped closer to him, one hand moving to cup his cheek and on instinct he took her by the waist. Their lips met and while it shouldn't have been an awkward encounter, it somehow was. Neither deepened the kiss, Helen's lips almost resting on his without any real force. He wanted to kiss her back, to taste her as their bodies moved closer and closer together in a wholly inappropriate display that would claim her as his but he simply couldn't...

She pulled back with a small smile, eyes not quite meeting his as she stepped away.

"Happy New Year," she murmured softly before turning back to James who held a glass of champagne for her.

And with that Nikola felt a distinct cold breeze across the back of his neck only he was certain it had very little to do with the frigid air.

Things were changing. He knew it and he couldn't quite make out if it was for better or worse.


	21. The start of something beautiful

"Helen?" James called, sounding faintly bemused.

"Did something happen?" Nikola added, surveying the overcrowded room.

"I'm here," came her muffled response.

"Where on earth is 'here'?" Nigel said with a chortle.

"I think she's been eaten by crates," John allowed.

"Helen?" Nikola called, stepping forward. He could feel the others looking at him probably in shock but he was working hard on ignoring them. Today he'd planned to ignore them all together. Not that he was making a fuss over the date, no, of course not. He was simply... unwilling to let their presence ruin the sentimental possibility the day held.

Or, that was what he'd told himself on the walk over.

"Look, she's created a path," Nigel joked, pointing to a small gap in the mountains of boxes and wooden crates that filled the formal dining room. Helen had called them all over a few days ago, saying that she would require their assistance today to sort through the trinkets her father had sent back.

Nikola had assumed it was simply a thinly veiled opportunity for them to utilise the house without her father insisting on playing chaperone. Mostly he left them alone if they were working in the sprawling basement sanctuary but the library seemed to be one of those places he simply did not trust the five of them to work in without his menacing presence in the corner.

But apparently he was wrong. Laid out before them in what had always been a rather sparse and spacious room were piles of dusty crates and sturdy wooden boxes. Some of them were labelled with blurry stamps or crumpled paper tickets but there seemed to be no order, no rhyme or reason to the way they were stacked.

"Stop making fun and come help," Helen's voice called back to them. Shaking his head, James led the way down the approximation of a path. Occasionally they were forced to clamber over a smaller box or the contents of a crate but the path did in fact lead to the centre of the room where Helen was bent over a small box, fingers gingerly tracing the characters written on what seemed to be a fragile map.

Nikola's mouth went dry in half a second and, based on the way both Nigel and John stopped short too, he wasn't the only one affected by her position. She was wearing a pair of trousers tucked into a pair of study boots the fabric of which was strained as she bent over crate, facing away from them. She wore one of her own billowing white tops, blonde curls piled atop her head in a careless twist that was working itself loose.

Clearing his throat, Nikola let his eyes slide back to the map she was staring at so devoutly and stepped forward.

"I prefer the dresses," he teased by way of greeting. She looked up at him and rolled her eyes but straightened, shifting to smile at the others in greeting.

"You took your time," she told them. "I was expecting you hours ago."

"We're all an hour early, Helen," James put in, quirking an eyebrow. It was another of the things Nikola was trying to pretend he hadn't noticed. Apparently they'd all been hoping to catch Helen for a little alone time.

"Oh," her brow furrowed. "I think I... Perhaps..."

She looked between them all guiltily.

"I think I may have worked through the night," she admitted, brow furrowing. "Though surely I'd have noticed the lack of light." The others all shared sceptical looks before James sighed and stepped further towards her.

"Tonight we shall make sure you are put to bed," he said firmly. "Simply because your father is away is no reason to neglect your health."

"Just you wait," she countered excitedly. "When you see what lies here, you'll be just as unable to tear yourself away as I was."

Carefully she picked her way further into the maze of boxes and crates, leaving the others to find a place to store their jackets.

"Father has set aside a few specific crates," she called out over the sound of clanking. "But, for the most part we are free to work as we wish with the remainder."

"And where is your father?" James called back, folding his jacket and tucking it behind a box.

"He's moved on to some of the more southern nations of Africa," she replied, voice still muffled. "But I've several letters that came with this lot that detail his travels."

"And where did 'this lot' come from?" Nigel asked, peering into one of the open crates. They knew that the good doctor had been off adventuring since the New Year but the last correspondence he'd sent had spoken of Spain and the wonders he'd uncovered.

"Egypt," Helen called back. "The contents of the crates come from all over but the interesting pieces were uncovered in Egypt."

"That would explain the sand," John drawled, toeing a small pile that had fallen from a box.

"He didn't have time to properly look through all his acquisitions," Helen continued. "So we have the pleasure. Aside from a few particular pieces though, we are free to do as we please with the remainder."

Nikola looked around him in awe. If these crates truly contained the findings of Dr. Magnus on his trip, they could include some remarkable things. Helen had spoken very briefly of her father's plans, merely explaining that one of his objectives was to recover the effects of an old friend who had lived out the last of his days in the south of Spain whose home housed a great many artefacts that revolved around abnormals and their history.

Apparently, for all the Magnus household understood abnormals and the help they required, history and the documentation of their origins were fairly scant. Nikola had been involved in a hunt through the library just two weeks ago in which several papers were 'borrowed' with little intention of being returned any time in the foreseeable future. The papers seemed to directly contradict each other, giving accounts that had left Helen frustrated and upset despite the hours of work they had dedicated.

Nikola had spent an extra three days neglecting his study in the hopes of finding something for her but all he'd been able to suggest was that the translation had been inaccurate.

James, it seemed, had managed to manoeuvre himself further into the maze as Nikola's thoughts had wandered, leaving him alone with Nigel and John, both of whom were peering into a crate, poking at its contents.

"Would one of you come help me with this?" Helen called, sounding annoyed that they hadn't managed to discover her path through the jumble of boxes. Nigel and John looked up but Nikola waved them off, setting down his coat before heading off towards her voice.

It was tight, a small and narrow excuse for a path that suddenly exploded into a small enclave, large enough for several adults. The crates were high, casting shadows that darkened the clearing but Helen had set up several lanterns around the space so that it reminded him of the mysterious basements beneath them.

She looked so lovely, curled over a crate of goodies, small crease between her eyes as she focused entirely on her find. With the golden light of the lanterns, she looked like something from a book, a strange and uncouth woman who carried with her the uncertainties of the known world. It was on moments like this that Nikola felt certain of his affection for her. It was this side that appealed to him most. She was an adventure, unseeing of the rest of the world when an idea took her. For all she complained of his single mindedness when he was engrossed in a project, she was no better.

Before she could look up and shatter his resolve, Nikola stole forwards, hand darting into pocket to withdraw the small bloom he'd picked on his way over. With a small smile he tucked the tiny red and white flower into her hair. She jumped in surprise, her hand flying up to capture his wrist as he pulled back.

"Happy February 15th," he whispered with a smile, hoping that she didn't shove him away for taking such liberties.

"You remembered," she said warmly, fingers entwining as she lowered his hand.

"Of course," he replied, trying to sound completely at ease. They'd spoken about the contempt they both held for the day, Helen asking why the day was any more important than the one that followed it. Part of him had wanted to come to her yesterday with flowers and treats and shower her with kisses but he'd ignored such foolish ideas. She'd already told them all she had plans with an aunt who was passing through anyway which he'd taken as the one saving grace. At least no one else could spend the day showering her with tokens of affection.

Laughing softly she raised her free hand, touching the flower gingerly.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "I received too many valentines yesterday and, for a moment I'll admit I was worried that you would bring one with you today too."

"You wound me!" he cried mockingly. "I'd never insult you by doing such a thing!"

She giggled again and tugged him closer, giving him a brief hug before stepping back. He contemplated grabbing her by the waist and pulling her back for a kiss but decided against it, remembering the others would be lurking about nearby.

"Come see what I've got here," she encouraged, tugging on his arm until he relented and peered into the dark crate. All he could see was a small, stone box, covered in scratching he supposed were images of some sort. Other than that, it was dark and the shapes of everything else blurred together.

"Where are you two?" Nigel's voice suddenly came.

"Just past the open crate with the vials of brown liquid," Helen called in reply before dropping Nikola's hand and reaching into the crate.

She pulled out the stone box he'd seen and set it aside before diving back in.

"Are you kidding?" Nigel exclaimed. "How on earth do you expect us to fit through there?"

Helen sighed heavily but ignored him and Nikola moved to study the stone box. The engravings were familiar for some reason, reminiscent of something he couldn't put his finger on. As he started to puzzle over it, he heard the faint groans and the scraping of wood on parquet floors that told him the others were forcing their way into Helen's little sanctum.

"Any boxes marked with a Spanish seal are for my father," she said as the final box shifted. "Leave them sealed for now, I intend to have them moved."

"And what of the rest?" Nigel asked, staring in awe at the enclave. "I mean, even if we find something of interest, what do we do with the rest?"

"Oh, we'll sell it," she said nonchalantly. "Or possibly donate it to a museum or two if they're interested.

"And what are we looking for?" John asked as he pried open a crate, a great plume of dust coating him from head to toe.

"We aren't," James replied, cutting in before Helen could look up from where she was still digging through a crate. "We're cataloguing the items."

He pointed to a stack of notebooks beside one of the crates along with small charcoal pens.

"However anything that doesn't appear to reference monsters or abnormal beings needs nothing more than a brief description," Helen finished. "Once the items are documented though, we're free to explore them as we wish."

After that, no one really spoke, instead they all worked for hours, cataloguing and investigating the artefacts that ranged from chipped tea cups to the stone box Nikola was barely able to keep his eye off. It wouldn't open no matter how he pried at the lid which only made the mystery that much more intriguing.

When Helen began to push them all to yet another little clearing amongst the boxes, he reluctantly set it aside in the hopes that they could return to it.

"Oh heavens," Helen's voice cut in, disrupting his documentation of the latest ancient hairbrush or whatever it was he'd pulled from the crate.

Nikola looked up, blinking at Helen until she came into focus.

"We seem to have forgotten to eat," she said, looking out to where the top of the windows peaked over the stacked crates. The sky was beginning to darken, the last vestiges of sunlight peeking into the room.

Nikola watched as the other men all blinked hazily, trying to reconcile the time they'd spent with the late hour.

"We're almost done," James croaked, clearing his throat before he spoke again. "By my count that box behind Nikola is the last of those on your list."

"How far through were you?" Helen asked Nikola, her exhaustion visible.

"Last item," he said, holding up the brush come comb come rather pointy implement he suspected was used for torture. "Would you call it a hair brush or a method to tear flesh from the bone?" he asked, twirling it up.

"I'd call it ugly," Nigel put in, stretching where he sat, sprawled across the floor.

"Are those barbed spines?" John asked, sounding slightly bored.

"How vicious," Helen remarked, taking the item from him and placing it back in the orate black box it had come in.

"I think I need brandy," James said, holding his head. Helen shook her head, her flower falling loose. It was wilted and a little battered but she scooped it up eagerly, tucking it back into her hair with a smile that made up for the ache in Nikola's lower back.

"It doesn't feel like we should be anywhere close to finished," Nigel remarked as he stood gingerly, wincing at his knees.

"I managed a good few of them yesterday and the day before," Helen said with a yawn. "Plus many of them are my fathers and, as such I feel no qualms about ignoring their contents."

"Here, here," James said as he pushed a few crates around to create a path from the corner of the room they were ensconced in. It took a few moments and a few guesses as to their orientation within the room but eventually they all collapsed into the parlour, drinks in hand as a maid brought in several trays laden with food.

They ate in silence for a moment, their tireless and thankless work finally catching up with them. Only when Helen set down her glass and let out a small sigh did they all look to her in askance.

"I don't suppose any of you came across anything of use?" she asked, sounding dejected.

"A few references to 'unimaginable beings'," James offered. "But from what I could tell there was nothing extraordinary about the information it provided. It backed up the Thantan paper though."

"Whereas the Greek text I found suggested that the Ciddor paper held more weight," John put in.

"Found a few gruesome pictures," Nigel said through a mouthful of cake. "Giant snakes and four headed fish and the like. Nothing concrete. Didn't understand the captions either. They were like hieroglyphs or somethin'."

"And you Nikola?" she asked hopefully. Nikola shrugged and swallowed the last of his food.

"A few old documents for the scholarly brothers over there to look over but nothing of real interest except that box."

"Which box?" Helen asked, shifting from her seat to take the space next to him on the sofa. He could see the eager look in her eye and it made him wary.

"It might not be anything," he admitted, taking a sip of wine. "But I couldn't open it."

Nigel scoffed and shook his head.

"Just because you can't give up a puzzle doesn't mean you got somethin', mate," he said with a chuckle.

"Tell me more about it," Helen insisted, leaning towards him and ignoring the others as they rolled their eyes.

"I'll go get it," Nikola decided, standing to avoid her hungry gaze. It made him think of warm afternoons and wandering hands and with the wine and the desperate need to sleep clawing at him, he wasn't sure he could resist sidling closer and putting an arm around her so that he could fall asleep with the pure scent of her filling his mind.

"I'll come with you," Helen said quickly, rising and taking his hand to drag him back into the now dusty and musty room that contained the crates. There was something closer to order now, the boxes stacked according to tracking number in neat piles but it still made the room essentially unusable.

"So, where was it?" Helen asked, still leading him about by the hand. Grabbing her wrist, he tugged her back into his body. She came with a squeak, hands bracing themselves on his chest.

For a second neither of them moved, bodies pressed tightly together as their breathing became more and more shallow.

"The box," Helen croaked, her bright blue eyes darkening a fraction as she shifted closer to him.

"The box," Nikola breathed, barely aware of the words. And then it registered.

"The box," he said again, pushing away from her unsteadily. She shuddered, her breath disappearing as a soft gasp and he turned, working hard at not grabbing her. They'd hardly been alone since the dismal New Year's celebration and he wanted more than anything to lose himself in her. The room was dark, barely lit by the remaining lanterns and the air was just cool enough to make body contact desirable.

"It's over here," Nikola said. His voice was too thick for his liking and he bit his tongue as they meandered through the crates in silence until they came across a box he recognised. Carefully he opened it, fishing about until his hands closed around the stone box. He lifted it out and placed it upon the nearest crate, intending on closing the one he'd just opened only to feel a small, soft hand upon his back.

He stiffened instinctively until her other hand came into play, both running slowly up his back until the rested on his shoulders and she was forced to step closer. He could just about feel her body heat as he slowly stood up straight, allowing her hands this strange expedition. She dragged them down his sides before they returned to his shoulders at which point she promptly began to kneed the tense muscles she found.

Nikola half moaned, sagging under her touch as she chuckled.

"You're very tense," she said softly. Nikola was certain he could hear a faint echo of desire in her voice but he tried to pretend otherwise.

"It's from being curled over all day," he gasped out, shivering as she worked a particularly tight knot.

"I did tell you to sit up properly on many occasions," she said by way of reprimand but it was soft and breathless.

Nikola nodded in response but remained mute. Her hands were slowly working down from his shoulders, tracing patterns over his shoulder blades before settling uncertainly on his waist. He couldn't help the shiver that rocked his body as she stepped closer, pressing herself against his back as her arms wound around him.

"Are you cold?" she asked softly, hugging him that bit tighter.

"A little," he admitted. But her body heat was more than making up for the slightly cooler air.

"Perhaps we ought to get back to the others then," she suggested, unwinding from her position around him.

"Perhaps," Nikola echoed. It took all that he had to not turn around and drag her back to his arms but somehow he managed. It was so unfair that the others were only in the next room when all he wanted was to be with her. He'd never felt this kind of overwhelming desire before, never had he needed a person in his life like this. It was terrifying and excruciating and wonderful all at the same time but it kept him frozen, unwilling to... to... to do whatever it was he was certain would be a mistake.

Humming softly to herself, Helen moved around him, collecting his box before taking him by the hand. They walked in silence back to the others but it didn't escape Nikola's notice that Helen wore a happy little smile for all the disappointment she'd held only minutes ago.

James raised an eyebrow at their clasped hands but no one mentioned it as they resumed their seats, Helen handing Nikola the box with an expectant look on her face.

"Go on then," she encouraged, settling herself back and folding her hands neatly in her lap.

"I already said I didn't know how to open it," Nikola reminded them all, trying to prepare her for disappointment.

"I have faith in you," she said simply with a shrug.

Looking around, Nikola couldn't help but feel that she was the only one. None the less, he shook off the other gazes that came to rest on him, instead pretending that only Helen was focused on him.

Carefully he set the box on his lap, running his fingers over it experimentally, feeling the grooves he was already rather familiar with. The box was cool to touch and slightly gritty, sand falling from where he trailed his fingers. He grimaced at the mess it'd no doubt leave on his trousers. There was something alluring about the box. It had a clear lid, defined by a thin crack that created a lip but no matter how he shifted it, it would not fall open. There were no hinges to be seen but instead a small stone screw in the centre of each surface. They were carefully worn down, so neatly that he suspected it had been a purposeful design.

He turned it over, tracing another set of symbols that ran along the centre of the base, a small set around the rim. They were in a pattern, obviously saying the same thing over and over and over again but it was an unfamiliar script.

"Pass it around," James instructed, holding out a hand. Nikola pulled a face but did so. He didn't really want to part with it, its hidden secrets were whispering to him, begging for him to unlock their mysteries.

He watched as James puzzled over it too, tapping and prying and shaking to no avail. It made the rounds fairly quickly, each having a try at working the lid loose until finally it landed back in Nikola's lap.

They all began to talk softly about how it was probably nothing more than a dusty relic as Nikola began his investigations again, slowly tracing each surface with a single fingertip. He could still hear their conversation and followed along absently but he didn't join in. This was... more important somehow. And it wasn't about proving to Helen that he belonged in their little group.

He'd always loved puzzles, ever since he was a child. Mathematics and puzzles went hand in hand, and in many ways, it was what had drawn him to inventing. Nothing caught his attention more than a problem that ought to be solved and this was just another problem to his mind. It opened, he was sure of it, just as he was sure that smashing the thing open wasn't the solution as John had suggested.

He would crack this code, he had to. There was something about it that seemed different to him. Nothing else they'd seen over the day had called to him like this box had. There had been puzzle boxes made of finely carved wood and inlaid with ivory and gold, even ancient ciphers that he knew would be worth a look at but this, this simple blasted box held his attention like nothing else had.

And then he saw it. The crack. The tiny, hairline crack that was too precise to be just a crack.

"Water," he said suddenly. "Quickly, I need water."

"Pardon?" Helen asked, perplexed.

"And some cloth," he added, not taking his eye from the crack. Placing his finger on it, he made sure to mark the spot before looking up to her. "Please, I think I know how to open it."

In a second she had a glass of water and embroidered handkerchief for him, eyes alight with excitement.

He dipped one edge of the handkerchief and brought it to the crack, carefully darkening the stone with water until the crack was even more pronounced. A droplet of water spilt, darkening the soft grey of the stone just to the left of the fracture and Nikola grinned. It was a panel.

It was the work of a moment to wet the entire base, his fingers trailing over the crack slowly and surely.

He turned the box slightly, running his fingers over the bottom edge and then, at just the right moment, he pressed down.

It slid away more smoothly than he had anticipated, clearly well built enough that the stone edges simply brushed one another as the panel slipped from the centre of the box. Placing it carefully aside, Nikola gently pulled at the two edges, smiling as they lifted up and to the side cleanly to expose a small wooden panel beneath. It was smooth, no markings in sight bar a tiny, misshapen hole in the centre.

With a triumphant cry, Nikola turned, grabbed the panel that had come away and flipped it, pressing down on the underside of the stone screw until it popped out and into Helen's waiting hand. Without speaking, she passed it to him, her gaze still riveted on the box in his hand.

For the moment, Nikola pushed aside the recognition of how well they worked together and returned his attention to the screw, studying its grooved edges for a moment. He took a moment to line it up properly and then inserted it slowly, his heart beating rapidly. He pushed it that tiny fraction further and a soft pop echoed from the box, making them all gasp softly.

Slowly, so as not to disrupt the spell that seemed to have fallen over them, Nikola turned the box over. The lid shifted as he did so and he pulled it off, a small smile growing on his lips.

Putting aside the lid he turned to Helen, grinning in triumph.

"M'lady," he said, bowing his head and offering the contents to her.

She chuckled softly and accepted the box gingerly.

"You're a genius, Nikola," she whispered, eyes shining.

"She's right," Nigel added, voice filled with awe. "That's bloody brilliant."

"Good work," James added absently, clapping him on the shoulder as he moved closer to perch in front of Helen.

"Come closer, Niko," she beckoned absently. His heart skipped a beat at the affectionate nickname. She hadn't called him that in some time and even then, it had only been in the privacy of the library. James shot him a peculiar look for it but Nikola merely glared back. He'd not take their teasing for the name. Especially when he suspected both James and John to want one too. Perhaps he could come up with a suitable retort for when it inevitably became a source of amusement for the others?

Steeling himself, Nikola shifted beside her, the length of her leg pressed against his. It was odd not having the buffer of her skirts between them but again he pushed the thought away. He wasn't willing to let himself get distracted by something as trivial as the feel of her barely clothed thigh pressed to his.

He watched as she carefully extricated the contents of the box, so perfectly preserved it astounded him. The leather covering was intact if not a little brittle and even the tie used to hold the scroll together stayed together as Helen removed it. The leather covering gave way easily, parting to reveal a small bundle of fabric.

James shifted immediately, clearing the small table before them as Helen fell to her knees and unfurled the thin fabric across the polished surface. It was finer than anything he'd ever seen and while he could put part of that down to age, Nikola was certain that this fabric, at its prime was not something that could have come from the ancient Egyptians as they had previously believed. It was beautiful, covered in intricate designs with too bright colours for the age.

The same script as had been on the box covered the rather large linen, the border proclaiming what appeared to be the same message as the box. Across the centre looked to be a map, carefully drawn mountains and rivers intersecting around caricature style huts and fires. More of the careful script was interspersed between what he supposed were landmarks, arrows and corrections made in different handwriting dotted the image too but what stood out to Nikola was the golden thread that ran through it all, coiling and unfurling from one corner to stop in another. It was sewn in amongst painted images, shining in the dim light of the parlour.

Stark black lettering across the top constituted a title but there was an elegance and flair to it that drew Nikola in. It was artistic, melting and flowing with elaborate swipes that he wanted to trace. Whoever made this had been talented and careful and, considering the intricate way in which it had been protected, clever.

"This is..." Helen breathed, looking up at them. Nikola noted with some alarm that the others had all moved closer now. He'd been so engrossed that he'd barely noticed.

"I've never seen anything like it," John murmured, fingers twitching with what Nikola recognised as the urge to touch it. It was one he understood well.

"Sumerian," James breathed, eyes glazed and Helen's head snapped up.

"You can't mean..." she trailed off.

"Mortal foe," he said, nodding as he pointed to a single set of characters above one picture of a village or town.

"And the rest?" Nikola asked eagerly, leaning forwards.

"It's the only piece I recognise," James admitted. "The rest of this is a language I've never seen before."

And then Nikola remembered.

"Helen!" he cried, turning and grabbing her by the shoulders.

Her eyes widened in alarm but he didn't care. This was more important.

"Those documents your father gave you," he continued, praying she still had them somewhere around the house. "The ones you were studying before Christmas."

"Oh my," she breathed, lips dropping into a perfect 'o'.

Shakily, Nikola released her and she brought a hand to her lips.

"Look at the title," he urged, pointing to the black script. "It's an almost perfect copy."

"The map isn't the same though," she breathed, shaking her head. "It was very clearly of India."

"That doesn't mean they were not created by the same people," he urged. "Where is it, Helen?"

"Upstairs," she said quickly. They stood in sync, Helen holding out a hand to him.

"Wait!" James cried as they began to rush to the door. "What are you two on about?"

"It's a map, James," Helen said gleefully.

"We can see that," Nigel added, sounding afraid of the sheer excitement radiating from her.

"Later," Nikola insisted, tugging on her hand. She nodded, growing serious as she pulled him from the room.

They returned in only a few minutes to find the others looking just as perplexed as when they'd left. Panting, Nikola resumed his spot on the floor, shifting the delicate map aside carefully so that Helen could lay her documents beside it.

"Where did you get these from?" John asked warily from where he sat beside Helen.

"My father gave them to me a few months ago," she said hurriedly. "I was supposed to decipher them but I had no luck. Other than identifying this as a small, now ruined city I couldn't make heads or tails of it."

"And what does that have to do with this map?" James asked, still sounding a little upset at her abrupt departure with Nikola.

"Look," Nikola said, snatching one of the rubbings and thrusting it towards James. "It's so similar. They have to be the same language."

James studied the two sets of writing for a moment before a sly smile spread over his face.

"You see it?" Helen said excitedly. "I can't believe I did not see it straight away!"

She turned to Nikola and took his hand beneath the table once more, squeezing gently.

"Your photographic memory is rather astounding," Nigel said appreciatively as James handed the charcoal rubbings around.

Nikola smirked in satisfaction before returning his attention to the map before them. Now that he'd unlocked the box, this new challenge seemed even more alluring.

"Alright, so it is the same language," John allowed, passing the documents back to Helen. "What now?"

"Now we have to translate it," Helen said, that edge of near manic glee in her voice.

Nikola grinned.

Oh God how he loved this woman.


	22. Papa

_**April 20** _ _**th** _ _**, 1879:** _

Frowning, Helen shifted through her papers. It shouldn't be this hard, really. Perhaps it wasn't hard, perhaps she was just too nervous as James had suggested the other day but this was the first time she'd ever even attempted to organise an expedition like this on her own. Normally her father was in charge and she'd merely peer over his shoulder but today she was alone in this endeavour.

Not that her father was here to help. Gregory had been gone for months, now making his way through Germany in the search for treasures. Even if he had been present though, Helen would not have asked for his assistance. This was her project, her people and her discovery.

Well, it hers on paper. She would not actually be leading the expedition no matter how much she wished to be so. At first the plan had been for her to lead the group, to travel down to Egypt in search of whatever 'store of ancient power' was supposedly buried there but first James, then John and finally the blasted housekeeper had put their collective feet down and she'd had no choice but to assemble a team of trust worthy men to send down in her place. While her friends and all the household staff had agreed to keep the information from her father, nothing she'd said had been able to dissuade them from their hard-lined stance.

So here she sat, late at night, surrounded by reams of paper and piles of books. It had been like this ever since they'd managed to translate the map from Nikola's stone box. It had been an arduous task and one that had frayed everyone's nerves. For weeks they'd avoided their school work, devoted entirely to the beautiful and fragile map. When finally they'd managed to mark it against the landscape of a remote corner of Egypt they had all half collapsed in relief.

The others helped in their own way, organising and sourcing materials for her with a bright smile. Their excitement rivalled hers at times and for that she was glad. No matter how difficult the planning got, they worked hard to remind her just why she now spent most nights behind the heavy desk her father had gifted her for her 18th birthday.

They were so close to the departure date now, far too close considering how far away from ready Helen felt. There was just too much to do in the two short weeks that remained until her hand-picked team would depart led by Thomas Blackwood.

It had taken Helen barely ten minutes to agree to allow Blackwood to lead the team. She'd sat him down and very quickly realised he was the man she was looking for. Of course, she couldn't give him all the details surrounding what he was after or why (she was loathe to discuss abnormals with anyone her father hadn't allowed into their private lives) but he'd been so intrigued by what she had presented that she had had no choice but to fall completely for the adventurer.

He was smart and curious and, from all reports, a hard worker. He'd brought reports from past employers all of which insisted that his work ethic was second to none. He never left anyone behind, no matter how lowly their position might be and he followed direction perfectly. James had approved of the man in a heartbeat and the two had since become fast friends. In fact, Blackwood fitted in with the entire group rather well.

Pushing aside thoughts of the wonderful afternoon they'd spent in the museum not two weeks ago, Helen tried again to focus on the ledger that refused to balance and it was only when a soft little knock came that she looked up.

"Come," she summoned, looking up with a scowl. The door slowly swang open, Nikola's pale face poking through. She huffed in irritation.

"What is it, Nikola?" she snapped, looking back down to the papers. Damn it, where had she been up to?

"Helen," he said softly. "Is... is now not a good time?"

"No. But come. You've disrupted me already. What is it?"

"Nu-nothing," he half whispered. "I'll go."

"Oh, blast it! Just get in here already, Nikola!" she growled, glaring over at him. He swallowed and stepped further into the room, wringing his hands after shutting the door softly.

For a beat there was no noise except for the steady crackle of the fire in the corner.

"I-uh," Nikola started. Helen rolled her eyes and looked back down at the papers. Nikola probably was here to apologise for blowing something up. Since her father had left both he and James had essentially moved into the house with her and he'd had to grovel on an alarmingly regular basis to get her to forgive him for destroying one set of equipment or another.

She pursed her lips.

"You're busy," he blurted out suddenly. "I'll go, I-I'm sorry. Sorry."

"Nikola!" she cried after him. "Just spit out whatever it is that dragged you here at this horrid hour. I haven't seen you all day."

"No no," he rushed, backing away from the desk. Helen couldn't help but notice that he looked almost unkempt, his shirt was creased and untucked, his vest nowhere to be seen and, even more telling, he was devoid of a neck cloth. But all this faded, barely registering as she felt her frustrations grow. Why couldn't he just leave her alone already?

"Nikola, if you don't sit down, so help me..."

His eyes went wide suddenly and he hurried forwards, falling into the ornate chair across the desk from her. He didn't meet her gaze, instead his eyes fell to the small stone box that she'd taken possession of and held pride of place on the corner of her desk. His lips quirked for a brief second before his gaze fell to where his long fingers were resting listlessly in his lap.

If Helen hadn't been about to snap at him again she'd have noticed how unmoving he was. Nikola was always fidgeting, always squirming about with some kind of strange power dancing through his veins that made him unable to remain still. But not today. Today, if it wasn't for the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders, she'd have thought him unconscious or asleep.

"Well then?" she prompted, tapping her fingers against the edge of her desk. If she wanted to even think about getting to bed before the sun rose she needed to get a move on.

His eyes flicked to her face for a long second and she was startled by the conflicted gaze.

"I was... I was wondering," he started softly, voice barely more than a whisper. He swallowed and Helen had to stifle the urge to sigh.

"How old were you when your mother passed away?"

Now that shocked Helen. She didn't really discuss her mother, the entire subject being something of a sore spot. Even her father didn't often get her to speak of the few scant memories she still held. It was silly, she knew but part of her still felt vaguely responsible for what happened. As a semi-doctor she knew that nothing she'd done could have prevented the illness that took her mother but there was still a small child within her that trembled in fear should anyone find out that she was responsible for her mother's death.

"I was eight," Helen answered stiffly.

Nikola merely nodded slowly.

She waited for him to continue, cutting remark ready to swiftly end the conversation. Only once had she mentioned her mother to Nikola. He'd been ambling about the parlour, looking at the pictures across the mantelpiece when he came across the silver frame that sat front and centre. He'd guessed in half a second that it was her mother, smiling like a child who had solved a riddle. He had proceeded to ask what she had been like.

Helen's answer had been curt.

"She died when I was young, I hardly remember her."

He'd nodded once, pursed his lips and put the frame back in place.

Until now she'd never heard him speak of her mother again.

"How?"

Then it was Helen's turn to swallow.

"Pardon?"

"How did she die? Do you remember it? What was it like?"

Helen could do nothing but gape at Nikola in a most unladylike way.

"That... That's none of your business," she finally spluttered.

"Please?" he added softly.

"Nikola..."

"Please? Do you remember her? How did you manage afterward? What was your father like? How did he deal with it? Was he alright?"

The stream of questions through Helen and again she found herself gaping at him.

"Was she in pain? Did you get to say goodbye? Did you pray? H-how..." He trailed off, his word getting caught up in a small, strangled noise that brought Helen back to herself.

How dare he? What on earth gave him the right to come in here at this hour and start prying at her most intimate of secrets? Maybe it was the exhaustion or her affront or maybe just a bit of both but Helen suddenly found herself standing, fingertips perched on the edge of her desk as she glared at Nikola.

"No," she said firmly, proud that her voice did not waver. "Enough of this, Nikola."

"But-"

"No."

"But what was it like?"

"No!"

"Do you miss her?"

"Out!" she cried.

"Do you believe in heaven?"

"Get out this instant!"

"Please," he began again, "just... please!"

"I'd be much obliged if you'd remove yourself from my presence, Mr. Tesla," she snapped coolly, drawing herself up to her full height. He started, merely looking up at her with wide, unseeing eyes for a long moment.

Helen could feel herself trembling in anger and frustration. Suddenly she felt overly warm, the small room stifling and stuffy. Her dress itched and cut off her breath more than before.

"Out," she said again, pointing to the door. "Before I call for James to assist you."

Nikola didn't move though and she felt heat rise in her cheeks. He seemed so meek, so utterly emotionless that Helen wanted to slap him. Didn't he understand that this was a private matter?

Finally,  _finally_  he began to stand slowly, easing himself up and out of the chair before casting a strange look about the room.

Helen remained silent, watching him warily as she tried to calm her racing heart. His shoulders were slightly hunched but as he shifted away from her desk, he did not pause. Only when he was standing at the door once more did he even look back at her, his gaze unreadable.

Nikola opened his mouth to speak briefly but without even a cool glare his jaw snapped shut again and Helen was once again left alone.

The silence that followed seemed daunting to her, making her heart beat even more erratically. Carefully she resumed her seat, clutching at the hand rests to stop her fingers from their quivering. His questioning had startled her to say the least, it wasn't a line of thought she ever pursued, not since she was old enough to realise no amount of overthinking would bring back her lovely, warm, smiling Mama.

Or little baby Henry.

For a while part of her had hated that child, that poor, innocent child who had taken her mother so unwittingly but it had not lasted long. Every time she thought of the boy who should have been her treasured little brother, her heart ached painfully and she wished for nothing more than to have had the chance to meet him.

Biting her lip, Helen fought against the sting of tears that was beginning to form.

"Bugger it," she muttered, blinking away the moisture only it didn't work. With a fresh huff of anger, Helen suddenly stood, storming away from her desk. In this mood there was no way she'd be able to focus on anything other than how much she currently missed her Papa. He was the only one who understood what her mother's death meant, he was the only one she could trust with these... these truly horrendous feelings.

Damn Nikola and his nosey tendencies to hell!

* * *

Breathing deeply through his nose, Nikola sank against the wall. His fingertips were cold where he pressed them against his thighs, digging in enough that he knew he ought to feel something but other than the coolness, he felt nothing.

In fact, everything was cold. His lips, his nose, his heart... He was even certain his moustache would have had icicles growing on it if the cold that affected him was anything more than a mental affliction.

As it was the cool evening air that was seeping in through the floor boards was enough to register his skin cold to the touch when his knees buckled and he buried his head in his hands.

He'd gone to Helen, she was really his last hope in the matter. She was the one, with her sunny smiles and warm disposition, she was supposed to have thawed him slightly.

But alas, Nikola's plans rarely worked the way he had intended. Instead he seemed to have maddened her. He couldn't quite place why. She'd never forbade talk of her mother, in fact he remembered several occasions on which she'd mentioned her in a very offhanded fashion. He'd never followed the line, deciding that it was never really the time or the place for such action but she'd never seemed so closed to the idea of even discussing the events that had led to Gregory raising Helen on his own.

Ah, there, that was better.

Apparently thinking of the puzzle that was Helen Magnus helped with the deadening cold.

Carefully, Nikola raised a hand to his chest, pressing down against where he hoped his heart was still beating. He felt the steady thump beneath his palm as well as the thickness of a letter resting in his pocket.

The letter.

It had come barely three hours ago, rushed in by a grubby youth who had sprinted from the township to present Nikola with his missive.

It wasn't a long letter or a particularly flowery one, in fact, in comparison to some of Milka's other notes to him. Angelina was always to the point where Milka loved to embellish her tales and fill the page with an abundance of detail he adored. Even when he'd first made the trek across to England in the hopes of avoiding military service she'd written huge long letters that told him precisely how many eggs the neighbours chickens had laid and just how many were squashed when the local recruiter trampled through in their search for him.

This one was merely a page and a half but it conveyed its message clearly enough.

Pressing more firmly to his chest, Nikola felt the cold radiate from the letter, snaking through his body as he bowed his head. Tear began to form in his eyes much to his horror but even at the sound of approaching footsteps there was nothing he could do to stop them.

* * *

Helen was still feeling poorly the next morning when she met the others in their secluded laboratory on campus. She'd overslept after a very broken night's sleep and missed not one but two of her classes and now she felt all out of sorts.

Tearing her hat from her head she ducked into the building, flashing a polite smile at the young man who held the door open for her. She clutched her books to her chest tightly, crushing the brim of her hat in one fist as she took the stairs two at a time. The action made her corset pinch and dig in but she ignored the twinge in favour of dashing around the winding corridors that finally led to their laboratory.

It wasn't really 'their' laboratory, per se but the university had asked them to limit their sometimes explosive activities to a single, rather sparse corner of the campus. So they had ended up with the barest of bare rooms, furnished only with the equipment that they'd managed to repair with whatever parts they could scavenge.

And anything they'd been able to pilfer from some of the more up to date labs.

But regardless, they all looked fondly upon their little room. If nothing else, it afforded them a lovely view of the court yard which served to alert them to whenever the Dean was after them again. The boys always scattered when he was seen to be striding across the pristine grass, leaving Helen to charm and smile her way into forgiveness. Only once had she had to actually dob in Nikola and really, what had he expected to happen when he blew out a section of wall in the library?

Thinking of Nikola made Helen pause slightly. She'd have to apologise to him. She'd been too hasty, too quick to snap at him but she'd been tired and in need of a good night's sleep (which she was still lacking) and he'd pushed the wrong buttons. Part of her was still slightly upset at his directness though she recognised that it was one of the qualities she often adored in him the most. Oh he could obfuscate with the best of them, there was no doubt but when there was something that needed to be discussed, he got straight to the point. Or he did once she dragged it out of him.

None the less, she'd let him sweat a little and then apologise. After all, there was no need for him to barge in the way he had and demand for her to speak of something she never spoke of.

Taking a deep breath, Helen opened the plain door that led to their laboratory, smiling at the four boys who turned to greet her pleasantly.

Actually, make that three boys. John and Nigel were comparing notes at the low table against the opposite wall, James was standing before the blackboard, fixing their equations from a few days previous but the blackened and charred table to her right was empty, In fact, it was surprisingly neat. No equipment lay about, no small array of mysterious tools she didn't understand the purpose of, no impeccably dressed Serbian gentleman hunched over a mess of coils and metals.

"Where has Nikola taken himself off to?" she asked, turning to hang up her hat and coat. In truth, she was a little annoyed with him. Was he off sulking because of their little tiff last night? Really, sometimes he was such a child...

"I suspect he'll be gone for the better part of a fortnight, if not longer," James said, not looking at her as he continued to contemplate another chalky assumption they'd scribbled. "I told him not to fret about hurrying back, considering the circumstances."

Helen blinked, trying to piece together what James had said. Cocking her head, she turned to him fully.

"I'm afraid I don't follow, James. Where has Nikola gone?"

James turned at her tone, putting down his chalk with a confused look upon his face. He cast a quick glance to where John and Nigel were still muttering to each other before taking a step towards her.

"He's gone home, Helen," James said, voice soft as if she should understand a hidden meaning in his words.

"To his dorm room? Why could he not stay at the house?"

Now she was truly upset at him. Was he really so upset at her cold treatment that he could no longer abide to be under the same roof as her?

"No. He's gone to Smiljan or however you say it. He was terribly upset at the thought of being so far away, it took very little convincing to get him on the next train."

Helen's lack of comprehension must have shown on her face because James took another step towards her, worry creasing his brow.

"His mother needs him, Helen. This is a trying time for their family, I'm sure you understand why he had to leave."

"What is the matter with his mother?" she asked softly, reaching for James who gave her his arm quickly, turning them away from the other two lest their eyes wander.

"His father has passed away," James said softly. "Surely he told you though, I found him just a few foot from your office last night, I thought you..."

He trailed off, eyes widening.

"He didn't tell you?"

"He didn't..." Helen suddenly felt faint. "He never said."

The air suddenly became thinner and the room span slightly, causing Helen to lean into James a little more.

"Oh my..." She turned to look up at James in horror. "He never said. He didn't..."

Guilt washed over her in hot waves that brought a blush of shame to her cheeks. Or it would have if all the blood hadn't drained from her head, leaving her eyes unable to focus. James' arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer as his spare hand took hers.

"Perhaps you should sit..." he offered uncertainly. "Or would you like a drink?"

Helen merely shook her head. How could she have been so... so... so horrible to her darling Nikola? He hadn't come to her out of callous curiosity and she'd half yelled at him. But he hadn't said... He didn't mention it. She should have seen it and looking back now she could. The quiver in his eye, the softness of his voice, the way he'd been  _still_ , it all pointed to something big and terrifying taking over his entire mind.

He had been scared and she, in all her exhausted, unfeeling glory, had turned him away. And now it was too late. He was gone, he'd probably have been on the first train this morning, cold and alone without any one to see him off or wish him safe passage.

Biting her lip, Helen leant against James as a single tear slipped down her cheek.

"Helen," he said softly, sounding startled but Helen didn't give him time to continue, instead she pulled away from him, snatching her favourite notebook and a small pencil up from the nearest table.

"I have to write to him," she muttered to herself as she slipped into the seat in front of his charred work bench but even with the pencil posed above the paper nothing seemed to come to her.

No apology was going to be enough, not when she'd acted the way she had. None the less, Helen began to scribble out a note, barely noticing that James signalled for John and Nigel to resume the seats they'd begun to vacate. All three watched her however, watched in silence as she hunched over the work desk and tore through sheet after sheet of paper without rest.

And they watched as each sheet fell to the ground as a crumpled ball.

* * *

_**Three weeks later:** _

Slowly Nikola trudged up the muddied path, hardly caring about the muck clinging to his shoes. He was half soaked, his umbrella having died over an hour ago, leaving him with only his travelling case to protect him from the elements.

It didn't matter though, none of it mattered. He was home, almost and he had every intention of sinking into a hot bath and not emerging for a good week or two. With a bottle of wine he was fairly certain his goal was achievable. He'd have to, at some point get his things back from Helen's home but that was a matter to be dealt with later.

Just thinking of her still stung in a strange way. Three weeks and he'd not heard a peep from her or the others. True, the boys didn't have his address but he knew Helen would have remembered at the very least the village in which he was raised after having questioned him relentlessly about it one lazy summer evening.

But apparently he'd overestimated their friendship. As he had the night he left. The memory was painful but one that he'd revisited many times since he'd left. In fact, on the many train rides over, he'd thought of nothing but the cold indifference with which she'd banished him from her presence. He'd had nightmares for the entire time he'd been away and when they weren't of his father, glaring down disapprovingly from his fluffy white cloud, they were of her, cackling away at his pain and suffering.

Never in all his years had Nikola felt this lonely before. Being with his sisters and the beloved Macak had helped but still... Before he'd been so self sufficient, he had had no need of anyone for anything but Helen had made him open up. She'd found a way to get him to rely on her friendship and companionship only to tear it away when he'd most needed her.

He was the fool though. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make himself hate her. Instead the anger was directed at himself.  _He_  had let down his guard,  _he_ had been the one left crouching on the floor like some snivelling fool.

A group of young men held the door open for Nikola as he approached and he nodded his mute thanks, scampering in to the slightly warm and much drier foyer of his dormitory building. It was much as he had left it, a little smelly and untidy but serviceable enough.

He checked his mail and swiped one of the newspapers lying about before turning in the direction of the staircase that would lead him up to his third floor room.

Only there was a wet mass of petticoats and silk seated on the stairs instead.

"Helen?" he asked, incredulous and, damn his traitorous heart, it picked up its rhythm at seeing her.

She looked up from the damp bundle of papers in her arms, blinking at him before she let out a small, gleeful cry.

"Nikola!" she half sang, bounding up awkwardly only to come to a sudden stop a foot from him. Her face fell just as suddenly and she bit her lip.

"What are you doing here?" Nikola half breathed, unable to summon any emotion to his voice.

"I-I... I saw you that you were due back today," she muttered, face downcast as she studied his shoes.

"I didn't write to you," he said quickly, narrowing his eyes. She caught his gaze and blushed before hunching her shoulders slightly. She looked almost ashamed and it took Nikola by surprise.

"I... I may have come across your letter to the Dean asking for a leave of absence until tomorrow," she said softly. "I was worried."

Finally she raised her gaze and Nikola noted with alarm the tears pooling just above her lovely thick lashes.

"Oh Niko, I was so worried."

Nikola swallowed and took a frightened step back. What in the name of God was wrong with her?

"Were you planning on waiting all day?" he asked, his breath a husky whisper. He couldn't handle this, he couldn't handle her.

"I tried to write," she breathed, stepping towards him but Nikola recoiled, more on instinct than anything else. "I did Nikola, truly. But I didn't... I wasn't sure what to say."

He merely nodded, trying to put all this together. The picture his mind had painted of Helen these past few weeks didn't line up with the woman before him. He'd expected cool indifference again, perhaps a cursory condolence once he was forced to admit the true nature of his trip but not tears, never tears.

"I'm so terribly sorry," she breathed, taking a small step back. "I didn't know, Nikola... Really, I..."

Suddenly Nikola became acutely aware of where they were. The foyer was, thankfully mostly deserted but they were in the men's dormitories and she was a very beautiful, very controversial single woman coming to visit an equally unattached man.

He had to get her out of there before anyone walked in and formed the wrong opinion of them.

Lunging forward, he grabbed her wrist and tugged her towards the staircase. She came easily, following him in her waterlogged gown up and up and up until they were hurrying breathlessly down his corridor.

He ushered her into his room, casting one last hasty look about before following her and slamming the door behind himself. Helen was breathing heavily, eyes wide as she stared at him.

And then she seemed to realise where they were. As her eyes slid from his to cast her apprehensive gaze over his room, the colour rose in her cheeks. Nikola watched, fascinated for a second before he shook it off. He had to remain strong, he had to find a way to not be so utterly captivated by her.

"What are you after, Helen?" he asked, trying to make his tone harsh as he strode past her to the bed. It was all as he had left it, if not a little dustier than before. The coat was still hanging by the cold fireplace, his desk still neatly stacked with the books he'd been halfway through reading and, to an extent correcting. When he placed his sodden travelling case on the small table at the foot of his bed, he couldn't even make out a wrinkle in the cover of his bed.

He was mostly pleased that no one had invaded his privacy but part of him wished that someone had come bursting in to figure out why he hadn't been attending classes. Though perhaps James had broken his promise to not tell the others, he mused. After all, Helen seemed to know why he'd been absent.

"I wanted to see you," she breathed, turning on the spot as she continued to take in his little room and meagre belongings. In comparison to her own lavish home she must have thought he lived in little more than a box, he decided dejectedly.

"Well, you've seen me," he grunted. "Is that all?"

"Nikola..." she whispered and he looked up, startled once again by the tears in her eyes.

He merely stared at her, waiting for her to talk.

"You dragged me up here," she said, apparently gathering her wits.

"I was worried for the scene you were making," he drawled back, turning away from her to continue unpacking his case.

"Oh,  _excuse_  me," she cried indignantly. "I apologise for having no clue as to when or where you'd finally show your face. Trust me, this was a last resort."

"You are forgiven," he sneered in response, hastily sorting through his belongings.

An uncomfortable silence fell at his remark but Nikola refused to be the one to break it. He had to stay strong, he reminded himself. He had to break away from this crippling need to be always surrounded with Helen and... NO! He had to stop musing on why he was so very drawn to her too.

So he kept unpacking, sorting and stacking his clothes with a carefulness that the task didn't really require. He half expected to hear her leave, the swish of skirts followed by a slam of the door but it didn't come. Instead, as he slowed in his task, he heard her taking deeper and deeper breaths.

"Oh Nikola," she breathed so softly he almost missed it.

"What is it you want from me, Helen?" he asked, turning with arms outstretched to face her.

She was staring at him with such a look of sorrow on her face that his heart missed a beat.

"Oh Nikola," she said again, taking a step forward. He recoiled slightly but it didn't put her off. She kept moving slowly until she stood right before him, eyes shining with an emotion he couldn't quite identify. One hand rose to cup his cheek and she smiled at him.

Nikola swallowed and tried to stop the sudden shaking that had overcome his limbs.

"Nikola," she said clearly. "I am so very sorry about your father."

"James?" he squeaked and she nodded softly, still smiling at him with her great shining eyes.

He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. Helen shifted her hand from his cheek to his shoulder, stepping that little bit closer.

"Right, well," Nikola said uncomfortably, clearing his throat again. A strange heat was rising through him at the same rate a chilling cold was spreading from his gut. "Thank you," he said tightly, giving her a thin attempt at a smile.

He had to get out, he had to get away from all this... emotion. He'd spent so long burying these feelings along with his father's cold body that the thought that they weren't entirely gone made his skin crawl and the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

Suddenly he wanted to be outside in the rain again, the cold, cleansing rain that would block out all these... feelings. It was too much, she was too much, it was all...

"Nikola," she said again, a little more firmly this time. "Nikola come here." Her arms opened and she tried to tug him forward but Nikola fought it.

She frowned but didn't give up, stepping even closer so that their damp clothes brushed together and made him twitch.

"Nikola, can we stop fighting now? Please Niko?"

And then her arms were around him and there was nothing he could do but pat her awkwardly on the back, clearing his throat once again as he shifted in her embrace.

"I am so sorry," she whispered into his shoulder. "For the way I acted and for what has happened. I'm sorry, Nikola."

"Yes, well..." he said, sounding pained even to his own ears.

"You should have told me," she continued, not scolding but comforting him in some strange way. "You should have just told me, Nikola. I'd have come with you, I'd have..."

For a moment she simply held him as Nikola held himself ramrod straight. He couldn't pull away from her, his traitorous body would not let him but neither could he very well lean into her embrace.

"I was eight," she said softly after a beat. "I was eight and she was pregnant. My brother..."

It took Nikola a few moments to catch on to what she was saying but when he did, his heart seemed to stop in his chest.

"I was eight," she began again, voice muffled against his shoulder. "I was eight and I was absolutely terrified. She fell. She was tired because of the baby but I was so young... All I wanted to do was play. I didn't know until later but she..." she took a shuddering breath and clutched him tighter, "... she was sick. The baby, my brother, he died. It was an infection but for so long I was certain it was my fault. I killed her, I killed them both."

Nikola's hands moved of their own accord, tracing lines up and down her back, feeling the ribbons of her corset numbly.

And then she let loose a tiny sob and Nikola crumbled into her, his own tears falling thick down his cheeks and into her sodden mop of golden curls.

"Helen," he breathed, clutching her tight. "Helen, Helen, Helen."

"I'm here," she whispered in response, burrowing further into his arms. "I'm here."

His entire body was shaking as he pressed his face deeper into her hair until his nose skimmed her neck. Carefully he nuzzled aside the hair and placed a soft kiss against neck. She stiffened but didn't push him away. In fact, after a second she seemed to sag against him and Nikola took it as a chance to continue.

With more urgency he began to pepper her neck with fleeting kisses, his arms finding their way around her tightly bound waist as her fingers dug into his shoulders. Her breathing was shallow and hurried and as Nikola gently bit at the exposed muscle of her shoulders, she moaned openly.

"Nikola," she breathed once more only this time he knew it was not sadness or regret colouring her tone but passion and he revelled in it.

With more and more haste he began to attack the skin of her throat, sucking and nipping and licking and kissing as his entire body began to tremble violently.

It was only when he had to grip her waist with all the strength he possessed to keep from shaking that she pulled away, eyes snapping open.

"Nikola," she said again, taking his face in her hands. Nikola half growled in response, diving for a messy kiss that had their teeth clacking together.

"Niko," she said against his lips, holding him tenderly. "Nikola, stop."

"No," he groaned, pressing himself even more firmly against her. "No, Helen. Please."

Carefully Helen pulled him away from her, still holding him close as she lead him over to the bed. Together they collapsed onto it, Helen's damp skirts pooling around them as she dragged him to lie next to her. Nikola curled in close, clinging to her as hot tears threatened once again.

Helen shifted until his head was buried against the exposed skin of her chest, her hands curled around him to hold him in place. She shushed him softly, rocking back and forth until Nikola's rapid pulse slowed somewhat.

She didn't let him go though, not even when he made an attempt to shrug away and he was thankful. Being with her like this, held so tenderly to her heart made everything seem less painful. It was like she was what he'd been missing back in Smiljan. All those nights he'd spent curled in his childhood bed, clinging to his pillow as he tried to fight off the nightmares that had overwhelmed him night after night had left him drained and exhausted but now, safe in her arms, Nikola found himself getting closer and closer to sleep.

Helen would protect him from the nightmares.

* * *

Groaning, Helen cracked her eyes to the weak afternoon sun streaming in through the single window. The single window in the room she didn't recognise. It was sparse and neat and it smelt of pine and books and ink. It smelt like Nikola.

And then suddenly she was awake and fully aware of where she was. Her body was uncomfortably damp, probably due to the rain she'd been forced to sprint through when her carriage had broken on the way over. The rain, she noted, which had apparently stopped. No longer could she hear the soft sound of it hitting the roof which had, coupled with Nikola's soft snores against her décolletage sent her off into a very peaceful doze.

If she was honest, she hadn't been sleeping that well. The guilt at her treatment of him had kept Helen awake for most of the night. She'd tried to combat it by immersing herself in the arrangements she was still making for their expedition but she was actually far further along in her preparations than she'd realised and, thus, Nikola had only been absent for a week when she'd found herself without a task to keep her occupied during sleepless nights. She'd tried writing letters to him after that but she'd found herself unable create coherent sentences that conveyed just how horrid a person she really had been to him.

But now, with his weight half pressing her into the mattress of the tiny bed, she felt strangely safe and content. This was why he was her best friend above all others. Just thinking about how nasty and callous she had been made her skin prickle. It seemed that he was on his way to forgiving her but it wasn't quite enough to settle the unease in her stomach. Part of her wondered if she'd done some kind of irreparable damage to their relationship.

He had been so cold, so distant and so offhanded when she'd tried to apologise earlier. It was so unlike her sweet yet reserved best friend that her head had been left spinning as she tried to catch up.

And then when he'd kissed her, something horrendously primal had been awoken. She had wanted to badly to let him toss her to the ground and... and... and, she was ashamed to admit, rut like animals. The feel of his teeth against her flesh wasn't an altogether foreign one but there had been something different about how he'd abused her skin and simply thinking about it sent a thrill through her body.

Taking a steadying breath, Helen pushed the thought aside, instead looking down at the messy brown hair that was escaping its normal slick.

Smiling, she loosened one hand from around his side, reaching up to stroke his hair. He suddenly stiffened against her, his breath catching instead of fanning across her skin.

"Helen," he croaked softly.

"I'm here," she replied, still stroking his hair. Nikola moaned softly and snuggled closer still. His lips ghosted across her skin, making her shiver.

"Thank you," he puffed, pressing a more substantial kiss to her heart.

"Thank  _you_ ," she said in return, running her hand through his hair again. "I... I'll admit I wasn't sure if you'd even see me."

He tightened his grip on her waist but pulled back to look up to her with big, sad eyes that made her heart melt.

"I was horrible," she continued softly. "I shouldn't have been so-."

"And I was a coward," he cut in. "I... I didn't know how to tell you. I was-."

"Quiet," she said firmly, pressing a finger against his lips to shush him. "Do not try and take the blame, I am the one, the  _only_  one to blame here. You were able to confide in James and not me and that... that is my fault, Nikola. I can never apologise enough for that-."

Her words dried up as he tore her hand from his lips.

"Can we please not talk of this anymore?" he begged softly.

Helen smiled, nodded and swallowed. It wasn't enough but she supposed she could apologise again later.

Finally Nikola smiled, heaving himself up so that they were eye to eye.

"I missed you," he said softly, cheeks flushing pink as he looked down. Helen chuckled and took his hand, giving him a small smile.

"I thought you may not come home," she said and his gaze snapped up to hers. "I'm glad that you did."

"Oh, Miss Magnus," he said darkly, fluttering his eyelashes at her. "Are you saying that you missed me?"

"Of course I did, you boor," she told him, slapping his arm playfully. "And may I just say, your accent is suddenly as thick as this silly moustache."

"Why are you always so horrid about my moustache?" he said with a pout, subtly tugging her closer but Helen didn't miss the action.

"Because it is a horrid moustache?" she replied sweetly, reaching up to smooth down the moustache in question. He rolled his eyes before swooping down to press a kiss to her neck. Helen giggled uncontrollably as he found her most ticklish spot and used his moustache in the most devilish way.

Only when she was practically shrieking did he pull away with an evil grin.

"May I kiss it better, Miss Magnus?" he offered.

"Most certainly not, Mr. Tesla," she bit back playfully. He tightened his arms around her regardless and Helen had to hide her smile.

"What if I call you Dr. Magnus?"

Helen could do nothing but laugh.

"You have me in your bed, Nikola. Does that not suffice?"

He pouted and held her tighter still but Helen didn't pull away. Logically she knew of all the reasons this was a dangerous situation to her reputation as well as the multitude of things she ought to have been doing at that very moment but, for a while, she chose to ignore all that.

Nikola was home and while this wouldn't ease her guilt it did soothe a mysterious ache that had taken over her heart.


	23. Group dynamics

"Give it to me, Nikola," Helen cried with a laugh, lunging after her friend. Nikola laughed and darted away from her, clutching the notebook to his chest. By some miracle, Helen's fingers caught on the edge of his jacket and she tried to tug him back to her. Nikola lost his footing, tumbling into the grass with a yelp. In an attempt to steady himself, he reached out with his free hand, grabbing for Helen but he only succeeded in pulling her down atop of him.

Helen shrieked as she fell in a mass of lace and petticoats to the ground, Nikola barely managing to catch her.

"You horrible man," she chastised, looking up at him from where she lay in his arms. Nikola merely gave her a grin, tightening his arms around her waist. "I'll never forgive you for this," she tried.

"Oh yes, the indignity of it," James put in, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "Will you two stop playing about like children in the nursery and get back to work?"

Nigel reached over and slapped the other man, shooting him a dark look of warning. Things had been tense for all of them over the past few weeks, ever since Nikola's arrival back in England, to be honest. No one had been sure of how to act or even treat one another, least of all Helen. She'd been the most withdrawn of all of them, barely participating in group conversations, favouring instead to hide away in her study with mountains of books. It had been by a stroke of luck that they'd managed to drag her out today. It was such a fine day, they argued, not too hot, not too cold and she couldn't very well spend such a day inside.

It had taken all four of them standing before her desk, arms laden with notebooks and refreshments to lure her out. At first she'd seemed to pretend she was still inside, making notes and pouring over tome after tome but then, after an hour or so, she'd taken the tiniest sip of the lemonade they had poured for her and everything from that point had been smooth sailing. She had smiled at James when he offered her a cake, laughed at Nigel's quip about looking for an abnormal in a haystack and eventually started bickering with Nikola.

They were using the lounge furniture from the covered porch off the back of the Magnus house, sitting under the largest tree on the property, completely secluded from the rest of the world and any prying eyes that may have been around but still John felt the need to look away as Nikola and Helen continued to fool about on the grass.

It was unseemly. They were too close, too close to be friends as they always claimed yet this behaviour... It wasn't appropriate even if they were courting. What if someone was to hear of their mucking about like this? What would they think to know that the prim and proper Miss Magnus who fought so hard for her place at the university enjoyed rolling about with a man in the open air?

John knew there was nothing untoward from Helen, she merely thought of the Serb as her good friend but Nikola... He saw the way the other man looked at Helen, the clear feelings the young foreigner harboured. It was all so painfully obvious that John wondered why Helen did not simply put a stop to it. She clearly felt nothing in return (after all, how could she?) so why did she allow him such liberties?

John well knew the dangers such behaviour presented, his own sister had nearly lost her reputation for nothing more sinister than a childish game involving meaningless kisses and he wasn't about to let that happen to Helen. She was too pure, too wonderful to have something like that happen to her. She'd probably lose her place in the university too, something he was loathe to see happen. It wasn't that he could see her ever being gainfully employed in the fields she studied, more than her passion was intriguing to him. Very few women contained such a vehement self belief based on little more than hope.

It was an interesting conundrum to watch unfold, really. She was the most modest, most virtuous woman he'd met in so very long and her developing relationship with Tesla stood to tarnish such a reputation but, on the other hand, she was a woman pursuing a man's education. There were many who would consider her reputation to be long gone.

John watched as she laughed, eyes lighting up with mirth that seemed to stem from a place deep within her. She was captivating like this though John found her to be captivating most of the time. There was something about her, an air perhaps, that drew him in until he felt consumed by her every word. She could burn him to the quick if she so desired with little more than a word before building him back up with a small, almost insignificant look.

It had been that way for too long. John had spent more time than appropriate simply rejoicing in his repeated opportunities to see and speak with the most wonderful and melodious creature that was Helen Magnus. He had every intention of some day making her his wife, of making her loyal to him and him alone. Of course, he knew it was foolish to think he could tame such a wild beast of a woman but he was quietly confident that she would fall into his arms and never wish to be righted.

He could almost picture it, the bright smile on her face and the light within in her eyes. And all her beautiful, glorious attention would be on him. She would be his.

"Nikola, you're crushing my gown!" Helen cried, her scolding lessened by the cheery giggle that followed. Tesla was hovering above her now, one leg pinning her skirts to the ground. He held the book out to the side though Helen seemed to have given up the fight for it.

"It's only because you forced me too," the Serb replied with a grin. John wanted nothing more than to reach out and grab the man by the scruff of his neck. Couldn't he understand how dangerous this kind of behaviour was to Helen?

"I forced you to do no such thing," Helen replied, hands coming to rest on his shoulders. She didn't push him off, as she ought to, instead simply holding onto him.

"I'm afraid you did," Tesla replied in mocking, shaking his head. "Clearly you do not understand the laws of the universe."

"Clearly you do not understand that you are heavy and crushing me," Helen cried.

"You wound me! Surely I am not so heavy?"

"Too heavy," Helen surmised, looking pleased with herself.

"Yes, yes, we understand," James finally said, frustrated. "You're both no better than children cavorting about on the streets. But some of us are here not for the chance to act like fools, but to better research the properties of the blood you have procured, Helen. Some of us are far more interested in scientific pursuits than Tesla's attempt to win your kisses."

"I'm not trying to win any kisses," Nikola protested, pushing away from Helen. He stood and reached down to her and John watched as Helen waved him away, blushing furiously as she pushed herself up.

"I'd thank you to keep your opinions to yourself, James," she said bitterly, sliding back into her seat as Tesla followed suit. As usual, the two sat closer than they should have, sides touching almost completely and it was only by reminding himself of how alone and safe they were, that John avoided grinding his teeth together.

"And I'd thank you to give this matter more attention," he snapped in reply. Helen looked as if she were almost about to give him yet another tart reply but, from where he was seated, John could watch as Tesla took her hand, their fingers winding together in a manner she apparently found comforting for she quickly relaxed, giving James only a dark look as retort.

John watched as she settled herself beside Tesla, far too comfortable with what should have been an uncomfortable proximity. How could she be so foolish to entrust her virtue and reputation to someone like Tesla, a man who wouldn't understand propriety if it hit him in the face?

With a barely muffled curse, John pushed himself up, just managing to stop his papers from flying everywhere as he did so.

"I need some water," he announced to the table, not waiting for anyone to respond in any manner before striding back towards the house. Just watching the way Helen threw herself about with that man made his blood boil. He would treat her far better than Tesla ever would or even could, he knew it deep in his bones. John would be able to protect her where Tesla could not and would be able to show the proper respect a woman of her bearing deserved. Helen ought to be treated like a lady, a precious gem, not some playmate to roll about with on the ground. And John knew he could contain his more carnal feelings towards their so very beautiful friend. Tesla could barely control himself around Helen, something John found abhorrent. It was as if the Serb didn't care for the way his actions reflected on Helen.

As he stalked into the cool shade of the house, John slowly became aware of the sound of footsteps following him. He ignored it though, more intent on making it somewhere cool and quiet so that the anger boiling within him could mellow even a little. Hopefully whoever had followed him would drop off soon enough or at least understand that he was not interested in any more conversation. He found their scientific talk hard enough to follow at the best of times and right now, if he had to try and wrap his head around one more scientific principle that baffled even their professors, he was not entirely sure everyone would survive.

"He's infuriating sometimes, isn't he?" his pursuer said and John sighed.

"Nauseatingly so," he agreed, giving James a tight smile.

"He frustrates you more than others, though," James continued, frowning and John felt his hackles rise. He was a reasonable person and no reasonable person could be expected to put up with Tesla when he was being his most obnoxious self.

"Sometimes I wonder if he understands that his actions may have consequences for people other than himself," John said, hoping he sounded at least somewhat diplomatic.

"He gets wrapped up in himself," James agreed easily. "Sometimes I wonder why exactly Helen asked him to work with us on a project like this. His skills are far more aligned with a less biologically inclined line of work."

"More than that, he isn't a likeable man," John muttered. He cast his gaze back out of the open parlour doors to where Helen, Nigel and Nikola sat quietly, occasionally passing a notebook between themselves whilst giving one another encouraging smiles.

"Nigel has confided in me on more than one occasion that he often finds Nikola's presence to be somewhat overpowering," James said softly, following John's line of sight. "However they get on well enough most of the time, it seems."

Sighing, John shook his head and turned back to the cool, calm interior of the house.

"I think Helen feels she owes some kind of debt to him for the way in which he stood up for her once," John said, almost bitterly. If he hadn't been the one consoling poor Helen outside, he'd have properly taught those men a lesson and had them running with their tails between their legs. Instead, Tesla had been the one to confront them and gotten walloped for his troubles. And then Helen had left hand in hand with the man, leaving John, the one who had truly shown a care for her, alone and without friend.

"I'll admit I've never understood their friendship," James said with a frown. "They're so close yet both swear adamantly that neither carry romantic feelings towards one another."

"I have it on good information that they've been caught in more amorous positions from time to time," John replied. "I believe the maid walked in on them one evening, unchaperoned and rather engaged with one another."

"You cannot mean to say-"

"No, no nothing truly depraved," John said with a heavy sigh, waving of James' concern. "But the point remains, they are too close to be considered just friends."

"And yet I get the distinct feeling that that is all Helen perceives them to be," James replied. With another dark look out across the lawn, John turned back, stalking further into the house. He came to a stop by the side table though, unable to resist petting the small stone box that lay tucked beside a vase of flowers. It contained their one treasure, a single beaker that had prompted hours of study and contemplation for them all. It was a marvel, really and even John, with his limited understanding of biology found it infinitely wonderful. For such a small thing, it was something of a wonder that it held their attention so completely. Several of their other projects had been pushed aside simply so that they could focus entirely on this.

It was something they weren't sharing either. By some small miracle, Helen's father had extended his trip again and again and again and, at this stage, they wouldn't see him until Christmas at least. It gave them more privacy and more opportunity to conduct their work without prying eyes, something they didn't always get when at the university. Only the other week they'd been hard at work in their stolen laboratory when Adam Worth had barged his way into their inner sanctum, declaring that his skills were suited to helping them with their project. Of course, he'd been sent away quickly and they'd all breathed a sigh of relief but still, when they were in Helen's home, things were just easier.

"I still cannot get over the power that one little box holds," a soft voice said from behind him. John turned, smiling warmly as Helen continued to approach him. Her eyes, as ever, were riveted on the small box but John didn't mind. Her scientific curiosity was a marvel in itself and one he most thoroughly enjoyed.

"It is mesmerising," he agreed, his breath catching in his throat.

"Are you all right?" she asked softly, looking up at him with those magnificent blue eyes of hers. She was frowning slightly, brow ever so slightly furrowed but she was standing close enough that he could breathe in the soft scent of her perfume. She smelt like lavender and sunshine with a soft touch of something spicy and clean.

John cleared his throat and smiled tightly down at her.

"Why would you say that?"

"I'm not sure," Helen replied, ducking her head. "I simply... You seemed upset. With me."

Unable to help himself, John stepped closer to her, one hand moving to rest on the curve of her elbow.

"You could never upset me," he said softly, the words spilling from his lips before he could think to act with a little more decorum.

Helen looked up though, surprise briefly flitting across her features before she gave him a kind smile.

"Don't you start treating me like a proper lady, too," she chastised, smirking. "I get enough of that from James. You're allowed to be upset with me, I do not need you to pretend for my sake."

John half chuckled at her, shaking his head. She was adorable in her adamant belief that she could be seen as anything more than the refined gem she was.

"I have no qualm with you," he said, taking her hand in his. "That, I promise be you lady or otherwise."

"Then why did you suddenly leave us?" she asked, her voice dropping as she stepped closer to him. Genuine concern was in her eyes and John once again felt humbled to be considered a friend of this most amazing creature.

"It... It was nothing," he attempted, bowing his head slightly. "Please, let us return to the others outside. It is such a beautiful day." John held out his arm to her, giving her his best smile but Helen's frown only deepened.

"John," she said softly, placing a restraining hand on his arm. "Be frank with me. You were upset. Why?"

He sighed, unsure if he should give in to her line of questioning. Clearly she cared for Tesla and surely criticising the man would not cast a good light over John. The last thing he wanted was to lose favour with Helen.

But she was so adamant. He could see that she would not leave this be, no matter how hard he tried to beg off. If worst came to worst, he knew she'd go to James who would be more than willing to explain to Helen, in detail, why John so loathed another member of their little group. Of course, James would mean no harm by it, in fact he would probably work to make John seem like the more reasonable party but it was a chance John could not take. Even James had agreed, just the other night, that if John truly wished to pursue Helen's hand, he must take steps to ensure he stayed in her favour for the foreseeable future. While her father's word would be final, his blessing, John knew, would be useless if Helen decided that John was an unsuitable partner.

"It is Tesla," he said softly after a beat. He could think of no delicate way to broach the subject but nor could he avoid the question any longer. The truth would come out eventually, it always did.

Helen cocked her head, still not understanding.

"He takes... he takes liberties with you," John continued, wincing. "I understand he is your friend and that you care for one another deeply but... it distresses me to see you so compromised because of his behaviour."

Helen blinked owlishly up at him.

"Compromised?" she echoed, her tone thankfully not scolding, instead simply curious.

"Between our group it is one thing," John implored, taking her hand. "James, Nigel and I understand that your behaviour is that of friends and nothing more but... I dread to think what would happen if an acquaintance of your father would pass on should they encounter your...  _friendship_."

"You believe my behaviour to be... compromising?" she replied softly, carefully removing her hand from John's.

"No!" he almost cried in alarm. "Not you, never you, Helen. You act with kindness and compassion that I do not believe Tesla always deserves. No, it is his behaviour that I feel could endanger you. Some may even say it is what you... allow him to do that poses the greatest threat."

"I am confused," Helen said almost frostily. "Do you not like Nikola?"

"None of us do," John said before thinking. He wanted to kick himself as he took in the shock on Helen's face. "I only mean," he began again, "that he can be something of a pain. He is often so full of himself and so assured of his greatness that we, James and I, find it most unsettling."

"You and James?"

"Nigel too," John tried. "Tesla is our friend but... you have to admit there are times when the fellow can be most disagreeable."

Helen pursed her lips.

"And it is because of this dislike that you think my behaviour towards him unseemly?"

"No, of course not!" John tried, leaning in closer to her. "It is not your behaviour that causes threat to your reputation, Helen. You are beyond reproach, scientific pursuits aside." He smiled wanly at his own joke but Helen said nothing, merely waiting for him to continue.

"It is the way Tesla is allowed to act around you," John continued. "He shows little understanding of the way in which his actions could do damage to your standing."

"It is not my behaviour that threatens my reputation but rather that which I allow?" Helen asked evenly.

John groaned softly, grimacing. He was not explaining himself well at all.

"Helen," he began, taking a deep breath. "You are not at fault, I could never believe such of you. It is the fact that Tesla shows little regard for how his behaviour may reflect on you that distresses me. I do not wish to see your name come to harm, Helen. You have such a bright future ahead that I fear any slight now may have drastic consequences in the future."

Helen seemed to puzzle over his words for a moment before she met his gaze again.

"You are saying that some people may mistakenly believe that my relationship with Nikola may be inappropriate, yes?"

"Some people, yes," John answered cautiously.

"However, amongst our group, there is no problem because you all understand the nature of my friendships, yes?"

"Yes."

Helen smiled softly at that and chuckled.

"In which case, I shall continue to act precisely as I desire," she teased, laying a hand on John's arm once more. "And, should I misstep in public, I shall have you, my valiant defender to guide, me to safety."

He laughed at her teasing words, shaking his head as he tried to keep his relief inside. She wasn't furious with him for his suggestions, something which he had half expected to occur.

"In the meantime," Helen continued. "Why do you not come back outside with me? Nigel found something terribly interesting which I'll admit, is the entire reason I came to find both you and James. Did you know that the vampires of old would give their blood to their most favourite subjects on occasion? Apparently it granted them all kinds of gifts for a short period."

"It sounds most fascinating," John agreed easily, giving her a warm smile as he again offered her his arm but, once more, she shrugged him off.

"Do not treat me like some simpering lady," she chastised, slapping his arm in disapproval. "I am perfectly capable of walking beside you without assistance."

"But I like to take your arm. It gives me pleasure," he replied softly, looking down. The gentle approach seemed to work and Helen's cheeks flushed with colour and she fiddled nervously with a piece of lace on her dress.

"I... I..." she began, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"It is of no consequence," John told her with a smile. "Come, show me what Nigel has uncovered."

He gestured for her to lead the way, pleased that she smiled and looked a mite more comfortable. Though it wasn't his aim to make her ill at ease, the way in which she coloured so easily at his frank comments made his heart pound out a frightening rhythm.

They walked silently out of the house, John pausing at the small stairs that led to the grassy stretch of the grounds, surprised when Helen's small hand found its way into the crook of his arm. John, through some sort of miracle, managed to keep from looking down at her, contenting himself with the knowledge that she was probably blushing brightly.

Instead he merely slowed their pace to a very leisurely stroll, enjoying the feel of Helen's skirts brushing against his legs with each step. She was almost pressed against his side, close enough that he could breath in the soft scent of her perfume. Though the day was hot, he didn't mind her body heat as it radiated through the thicker layers of their clothes. In fact, the strange kind of intimacy it provided made his blood pound.

When they finally made it back to where they'd set up camp beneath an old tree, John almost wanted to ask her to keep walking, unwilling to give up the sensation of her arm in his. Even worse, when he gestured for her to sit, he realised that Nikola was alone at the table.

"Where is Griffin?" John asked, trying to keep his tone light.

"Went to find some scotch, I believe," Tesla replied, not looking up.

"Scotch, at this hour?" Helen said, shaking her head. "That man and his sprits shall never make sense to me."

"I think it was to be in celebration," Tesla allowed, shrugging his shoulders. "But never mind that. Come here, Helen. I have something more to show you."

And, like a moth to a flame, John watched as Helen slid into the space beside Tesla, moving in too close as she bent her head to look at whatever he was presenting to her. The book sat between them, their bodies pressed flush as they took in the information, Tesla's hand even darting out to shoo away Helen's to reveal more information.

"I must find James and Nigel," Helen breathed, looking up to Tesla in excitement. He nodded enthusiastically, shifting somehow closer to her while Helen grinned brightly.

At once she was standing, hurrying away from them.

"I'll be back soon," she called over her shoulder, leaving John standing mutely by the table. Tesla had gone back to his book, flicking hurriedly between pages.

With a heavy sigh, John sank into his deserted chair, trying not to glare at Tesla.

"Finished sulking?" Tesla asked, not looking up.

"I was not..." John half spluttered, almost growling when the other man smirked.

"You were sulking," the Serb said smugly. "I could not figure out why, though."

"I do not sulk," John replied, his tone biting.

"Was it because Helen was finally smiling?" Tesla asked, his words growing terse. "And not because of anything you did."

"What on earth-"

"You bring nothing but gloom with you, wherever you go," Tesla continued. "It is a wonder that you haven't been told to leave us be already."

"How dare you," John began, sitting up.

"Helen misses her father," he continued. "And you, rather than trying to be helpful and take her mind off of the fact, parade around with a scowl instead. Even worse, you are no scientist. You can barely contribute on the best of days."

"I am terribly sorry that my expertise lies outside your realm of comfort but your work here can hardly be called a contribution either. You tinker, Tesla. You tinker with meaningless rubbish. At least I can claim to have studied something that shall one day help others."

Tesla chuckled and shook his head.

"You do not understand me," the other man almost sneered. "And I should not expect you to. However your lack of understanding stretches further than that. You do not understand Helen. You do not understand why she has asked you here and you do not understand her."

"I understand well enough that she thinks of you as nothing more than a friend," John hissed in reply. Tesla started a little at that, frowning. "And I understand that, whatever childish affliction she may have toted for you, it pales in comparison to what I feel for her. You may be the scientist, Tesla, but it does not always go in your favour. After all, who is better to win her heart? The scientist or he who can express that which he feels?"

"Who said anything about winning hearts?" Tesla sneered in reply. "Again, you have misunderstood me."

John chuckled at the statement, certain that he did not in any way misunderstand the other man.

"No matter," John said smoothly, running a hand down his front. "At least I know I shall have no competition for her heart."

"So you intend to woo her?"

"I intend to win her," John replied calmly. And he did. He would win Helen Magnus if it was the last thing he did.


	24. For tomorrow, the world will change

"Sanguine Vampiris," she said slowly, excitement lacing her tone.

"Sanguine  _Vampiris_?"

" _Sanguine_ Vampiris."

"Sanguine... blimey."

"And?"

Helen's gaze flicked up across the dark room, a smile flittering across her lips before she turned her attention back to the table before them.

They were down in the bowels of her home again, only sputtering candle light and the occasional noise from a creature to disturb them. Thomas Blackwood's treasure was piled around the room, all the artefacts he'd given his life to locate for them creating something of a cocoon. But the effect was far from comforting.

For June, it was surprisingly cold and the stone walls only accentuated the fact. They had a fire going but with damp wood, it wasn't overly warm or large. Five cups of tea were scattered around the edges of the worn wooden table in the centre in various stages of consumption but now all significantly cooler than was preferable, forgone in favour of the dark stone box sitting in the centre. The candle beside it cast ghostly shadows across its surface, highlighting each and every dent in what would have been a polished veneer.

It was their prize. The gem amongst Blackwood's find that shone a bright and bloody red. At first, they hadn't been able to open it, a few even suggesting that it may not be worth whatever prize lay inside but they had persevered and, much to their surprise and delight, the box had fallen open to them one lazy Sunday afternoon, revealing its treasure.

It was because of this box that everything else seemed to fade into the background for the five gathered around it. Nikola's abrupt disappearance a few weeks previous had been forgiven easily, as had Helen's melancholy when Blackwood's body had been sent back. All sins, in fact, seemed forgiven now. Nigel was no longer judged for his late night companions nor was James and his 'medicinal' companion. John's lack of scientific learning also paled now, half forgotten as their unspoken bond changed.

They were different now; the five of them were so very different. It wasn't anything overt or even that noticeable amongst themselves but it was like they'd all taken a step off the path together. And it was a step that could never be reversed.

The discovery they had made changed everything.

And really, how could it not? Their fears and hopes had been realised and now, finally, they possessed something that they had barely hoped to dream of.

It was surreal.

"Are you certain?"

"I can't find any evidence to the contrary. Nothing we've found suggests this is anything else..."

John's scowl darkened and he settled further into his chair. He didn't like it. Nor did Nigel, to an extent but his scientific curiosity was getting the better of him with each passing second and they could all see it. James was still unreadable though, his expression giving nothing away.

Only Nikola and Helen wore their excitement like two children on Christmas morning. They were... young, so very young in comparison to their grave friends.

"Have you heard from your father yet?" John asked, his voice as smooth as glass.

Helen's expression darkened for a fraction of a second before her back snapped up straight.

"His most recent letter came only three days ago," she replied tersely. "I have since replied and told him of our findings. Not that it has any bearing on what we are discussing tonight."

"Nor is it any of your business, mate," Nigel put in, not looking up from the table before them. Helen's lips twitched up for a moment before she gained control once more.

"I've gone through Mr. Blackwood's materials three times and I am as certain as I'll ever be as to the origins of this... this... thing." She waved her hand towards the box, making the nearest candle shudder.

"And the map?"

"It was lost on the expedition," she said, sounding a little sour about the fact. "But if we compare the lettering on what was brought back to that which we copied from the map, it is clear to see that there is some kind of relationship between all these artefacts."

"But, Helen, what you're suggesting..."

"It is not an uncommon practice!" she cried, hands balling into fists. "Or did you not read the papers I gave you concerning the consumption of, and I quote, 'magical blood'?"

"This is different," John maintained. "Helen, what you're asking us..."

"I am not asking it of you, Mr. Druitt. Clearly, I was wrong to invite a man such as yourself to assist in furthering science and our understanding of the natural world."

The room fell silent once more, only the faint whistle of wind making an attempt at punctuating the once again frosty room.

It had been like this for days now, Helen and John trading angry pleas that the other see reason. In fact, it had been happening ever since Blackwood's findings had been sent back. Things had been uncomfortable between not only Helen and John but John and the rest of them. Nikola had, on more than one occasion, accused him of believing that he was the only member of the group who had morals. Helen had intervened just in time to prevent either of them from spilling the other's blood.

James and Nigel, while less overt in their disapproval of Helen's rather outrageous plan, had still voiced their concerns. No one, however, had had the guts to actually verbalise what they'd all (Nikola included) come to suspect.

This was more about her father than any great desire to see the effects of this blood.

Gregory had, over the past few months, become something of a sore spot amongst them all. He'd written numerous times, giving return dates that always came and went without his appearance. Helen had, each time, taken up a silent vigil in the living room in wait for him and each of her boys took turns in sitting with her. It was painful to watch the anger and resentment growing inside her as the days ticked by and they all knew when his next letter arrived to apologise for not making it home, it would go straight into the fire before they could even think to ask after it.

Over the course of one wine-fuelled evening, Helen had admitted to them all that she'd never gone this long without seeing him. Sometimes he'd return for only a few days but still, he always returned if only so that she could be sure he was safe. This extended absence had her on edge and, they'd begun to suspect, feeling a little unwanted.

It was understandable, if not a plight they all sympathised with but it was not something any one had dared broach with her. Instead, they all followed her with eyes carefully trained on the floor. It was safer to simply let her anger and resentment come out when she chose. After all, it was that or be the one to induce another round of secret tears.

Helen was very, very good at hiding them but the others were all just as good at reading her. Even if she managed to hide the redness, they could always tell and it broke them just a little bit. Though Helen was yet to realise it, they were all bound to her in a way that was not entirely suitable or even justified considering their relatively short acquaintance but the bond was there regardless. All she needed do was say jump and she would have four response of 'how high' within a second.

Individually, each man suspected that the others felt in a similar manner to himself though none had dared to pose the question out loud. Of course, John's declaration that he intended to woo and win Helen was in all their minds but, that aside, there was no real communication. After all, how could it even be expressed? It was dangerous to even think of their friendship, if it could even be called a friendship. They were closer than the bonds of friendship allowed but there was nothing society and its morals could do about it.

In reality, none of the men would have it any other way.

And neither would Helen for she, in her own way, loved each of her men dearly. Again, it was strange and not entirely appropriate and she wouldn't dare think to voice it but nor would she ever be able to deny it.

She knew what she was about to ask would test the bonds of their friendship but she couldn't not ask. Though she was unsure of the answer she would receive, she was certain, either way, they would stand by her side. It was dangerous and reckless and could very well end in their deaths but the curiosity that had always drawn her to stand on the edge of a cliff was burning as bright as ever. She would not be deterred.

Of course, that didn't mean she wanted to jump without her friends beside her. She could, and she would persevere alone but she didn't want to.

"I am most sorry," John said softly, bowing his head slightly. "But I must protest. I do not mean to offend you or to belittle your beliefs but if I am an equal member of this group as you have said before, then why can I not express my scepticism?"

At that Helen merely pursed her lips, turning away. She knew he was right but her pride wouldn't let her back down, not now.

"Perhaps we could continue to distil it?" Nigel put in, trying to ease the tensions. "Make it less potent."

"But then we could miss out entirely on the gifts it could bestow," Helen replied. "We've been working on this for weeks now, Nigel. What more do you think we can learn in the laboratory?"

Nigel said nothing, simply pursing his lips. This time, he knew she was right but none of them wanted to admit to the fact. They had, for weeks now, worked tirelessly, spending late night after late night in their preferred laboratory high above the courtyard at the university. They had skipped classes, meals, parties and even an exam so as to better understand the blood and what it could do. They had injected mice, rats, even a little lamb to see what effects would occur at different levels of dilution.

As a project, it had consumed them entirely. It hadn't started off as such a rabid fascination, in fact it had quite snuck up on them. They had begun in quite a standard fashion, their interest strong but not overwhelming. Day by day, discovery by discovery though, it had become worse. The true tipping point was difficult to pick out but it happened sometime around they had uncovered the paper written on magical blood and the effects that drinking it would have on the human body. Small sects of ancient Egyptians, it seemed, had worshiped the magical blood with an unhealthy passion, going so far as to drink it before battles to strengthen themselves.

And, most startlingly of all, it seemed to work. The rats and mice that had been given small quantities to drink became smarter and stronger and much, much faster. Unfortunately though, the effects seemed to wear off within the space of a day. They had surmised that it would last a little longer in the human body, being more closely related to human blood (as their tests had shown) but again, it would not be a permanent change.

Originally, it had been suggested that they should drink the blood. In fact, it had been what they were considering when Adam had broken in on their 'study session' however, when it became apparent that the mice who had ingested the blood could not survive an injection of it later, the idea had been laid to rest.

If they drank it, they would not be able to inject themselves with it later on. No one had said it but that was their biggest fear.

Helen had been the one to suggest injection early on as a method of more permanent transformation of mind and body however they'd merely tossed it around without any serious belief that it would come to that. But they had all decided that the logic was sound. If the blood could affect transformations on the blood of the animals they had tested merely through digestion, surely and injection would have a far greater and longer lasting effect.

"The serum we've derived I think is our best bet," Helen continued, her voice unwavering. "We could work for another decade on the blood and be no further in our understanding of how it effects the human body."

"But what if it really is vampire blood?" Nikola blurted out. They all turned to face the wide-eyed Serb. He seemed genuinely worried.

"Sanguine Vampiris is just another type of abnormal," Helen told him soothingly.

"But we do not inject ourselves with the blood of every abnormal we come across," he countered.

"But we do not read stories of the mystical properties of all abnormal blood," she replied, rising to the debate.

"Maybe if we were to use a cadaver," James said thoughtfully.

"That's simply morbid," Helen said with a faint shudder.

"A human body is a human body," John jumped in. "And it beats making a cadaver of ourselves."

Helen's scowl wiped what little smile he had, off of his face.

"We have done all that we can. This is the next logical step in the chain and I, for one, relish the chance we've been given," Helen said, giving the others a scornful look.

"Can't you see how this might come across as hasty?" James said carefully. A second of painful silence fell before Helen turned to him, her eyes aflame with either indignation or hurt, no one was sure.

"What do you propose we do then, James?" she asked. "Shall we sit on our hands and just watch the blood, perhaps? Or find more animals with bodies much unlike our own on which to test?"

"Helen..."

"Or is it my father's approval you wish to wait for?"

Wisely, James did not reply.

"He is not here, James. He has not been here for months now and I personally do not expect him to return for months to come. More than that, this, all of this, is the by product of our hard work. It was Nikola and I who cracked the code on the map, it was you who sourced Mr. Blackwood for us, it was Nigel who suggested which tests to run to check that what we have is indeed the blood we sought and it was John who stole paper after paper from the library for us to study at our leisure."

"You misunders-"

"Was it my father who has spent night after night hunched over a beaker? Was it my father who risked his neck and his place at the university day after day? Was any of this,  _any_ of this, James, the doing of my father?"

Helen's cheeks were bright red, her fists balled and hair escaping down the back of her neck. Her breathing was laboured, chest heaving as she glared at James, her fury unrestrained.

James swallowed.

"No," he said softly. "No, none of this was his doing. But Helen-"

"Be careful with your next words, Watson," Nikola said, not taking his eyes from Helen. Her gaze flicked to him for a moment before a tiny smile lifted the corner of her lips. Nikola smirked in response, leaning back in chair casually, arching an eyebrow at her.

"Well then," Helen said, still smiling ever so slightly. "If you and John are so opposed to injection of the blood, my I propose a compromise?"

James inclined his head slightly.

"Nikola, Nigel and myself will inject the blood," she began, holding up a hand to silence John's protest before it could begin. "And you two may ingest it instead."

For a long moment, no one spoke. Both James and John were clearly weighing up their options (and deciding just how to answer to avoid any unnecessary wrath) and the others were watching them with interest. Nigel and Nikola both seemed highly amused by the predicament, sharing more than one knowing smile. While both still had their doubts, they trusted Helen as much as they trusted their own instincts. There was no more waiting or testing they could do; if they truly wanted to learn more, they had to take the next step.

"Fine."

James' reply shocked them all in some ways. While it was most certainly a compromise, it wasn't one they honestly thought he would take. It was a cop out, more than anything else. They were supposed to be taking the plunge together.

"Fine?" Helen echoed, eyes wide.

"I'll drink the blood," James clarified. "On one condition. I go tonight, you have to wait until tomorrow to inject yourselves."

Then it was Helen's turn to fall silent, weighing up the offer. It took her significantly less time than James to make up her mind.

"All right," she replied firmly, narrowing her eyes at him. "Though you shall drink the blood itself, not the serum."

James opened his mouth to argue but, with a heavy sigh, shut it once more.

"Fine."

They stared at each other for a moment before Helen's face cracked into a grin. Her excitement was palpable, the thought of finally studying the human body under the effects of the blood almost contagious. In a flash, she stepped away from the table, grabbing beakers and a notebook, flinging them all down on the table rather carelessly. Her dress made the only noise in the room, fabric layers brushing together almost too loudly as they others all watched her. Only when she returned to the table, did their gazes return to James. He was sitting almost too calmly, hands linked over his stomach as he reclined in the chair.

"Are you sure about this, James?" Helen finally asked, pausing for a moment. He drew in a deep breath but before he could speak, John jumped in.

"Let me go first."

"John-"

"If all goes well, tomorrow, James can drink some more and then tomorrow evening the rest of you can..." He waved a hand absently towards Nigel and Nikola. "Think of it as a precaution."

"No," James jumped in. John turned to face him and James reached out, placing his hand over John's forearm. "Together."

The two shared a small smile before turning back to Helen. Her face was unreadable and though none of them would have seen it, a sudden rush of fear overcame her. Presented with the reality of losing two of her closest friends, she struggled to remember why it all seemed like such a grand idea. Scientific curiosity was pushed aside, replaced by complete and utter uncertainty.

"Are you sure?" she asked, leaning forwards. "Really sure? I won't ask you to do this for me, I cannot. Please."

Again, the two shared a look.

"I am as sure of this as I was of Nikola's attempt at baking," James said solemnly.

"Hey!"

Nigel thumped Nikola in the ribs, effectively stemming any upset outbursts from the smaller man.

"I have never been less sure of anything in my life," John put in. An uneasy silence fell for a beat, the feeling of unease growing by the second. All eyes rested on the young scholar, awaiting what was clearly a statement made for impact. Or at least, so though Nikola.

"However," John finally continued. "You are right, Helen." He said the words slowly and it seemed to cost him a little pride but it was out none the less. "We can learn no more from simply study or even experiments on live creatures. This is... a compromise. You can learn what you will from James and myself and perhaps our folly will give you pause to think of the consequences of your rash actions."

"John-"

"It will be safe enough," James put in. "The effects are only temporary and this use has been well documented in the past. It is the next logical step."

"You do not have to do this," Helen said again.

"Ah, but we do," James replied. "You seem to underestimate my enthusiasm for our project, my dear. You, Helen, are not the only one who fervently wishes to see this experiment come to fruition. If this works as we think it shall, the possibilities for a practical application in the field of medicine are... endless."

"We could change humanity. Forever," Helen half whispered.

"We will," James agreed, the passion in his eyes surpassing his calm and controlled tone of voice.

Helen licked her lips, her smile slowly returning and lifted the lid on the stone box. In contained the majority of the blood, their own derivatives stored separately and far from the source. Though they had not been sure (or at least, vocal) in what would happen to the serums they had been creating from it, the idea of minimising cross contamination was something they had all agreed to. The blood was powerful beyond description and that was not something to mix wantonly.

With a surprisingly steady hand, Helen poured two nips of the thick red liquid into a pair of test tubes from the small glass jug they had transferred the blood into, deciding it was safer than the stone vessel it arrived in.

Carefully, eyes trained on her task, she added a few drops of water, diluting the rather viscous substance.

"Would more water hurt?" John put in, sounding ill at ease.

Helen looked up and cocked her head.

"I suppose not. James?"

He shook his head.

"I shall take my straight up, if you will. I'd much rather get it down in one."

Nodding, Helen poured more water into one of the tubes, filling it as high as she dared. When they were both to her liking, she took another glance at them both, apparently checking for flaws she would not be able to see. The others watched her closely, studying the precise movements of her long fingers.

When finally everything was done, she slowly pushed the beakers across the table, the wooden holder scraping against the already distressed wooden table.

John and James reached out at the same time, grasping their respective vials. James reached up to loosen his neck tie as he did so, pulling the fine fabric loose and tossing it aside. John sat up a little straighter in his chair, his face deathly pale as he surveyed the vials.

The other three watched on almost in awe.

"I remind you again," Helen said softly, "if you do not wish to do this, I will think nothing less of you for returning the vials."

"And risk losing out on the chance to study the immediate effects?" James scoffed, sounding half convincing. He gave Helen a quick smirk before, in a flash, he downed the contents of his vial. He gulped once, pulled a face and then put the vial back into place.

"Horrendous," James half gasped, still grimacing. Helen moved to help him but he waved her off, instead gesturing to John. "Your turn, old chap."

As one, they all turned to watch John lift the vial to his lips with trembling fingers. He drank it slowly, each drop sliding down his throat in a rather methodical fashion. It seemed to drag on for near hours and when John finally put the vial back down on the table top, they all breathed out as one.

Though it was foolish, they all stared, hoping to see some kind of dramatic change in the pair but, as the seconds ticked by, nothing happened.

"Well," James began. "How... uneventful."

"Don't count yourself out yet," Nigel said softly in warning. He was eyeing the pair with obvious apprehension while both Helen and Nikola were half grinning in excitement.

"I suggest we retire for the evening," John said with a frown.

"We cannot simply let you alone for tonight," Helen jumped in. "You need to be watched, both of you."

"How about the treatment room down the corridor?" James offered. "There are two beds, we can sleep and you can all take turns in minding us."

"Surely they do not need supervision all night," Nikola asked with a grimace.

"I'm with Helen," Nigel put in. "We can't just... walk away."

"Then it's settled," Helen put in. "Nikola, take the first shift. I shall come replace you in a few hours and Nigel can take over from me after that."

Both men made a face but, wisely said nothing. Helen turned to John and James expectantly, raising an eyebrow.

"Bed it is then," James said easily, not at all put out by Helen's forceful nature. John looked more taken aback but did as instructed, rising from his chair slowly, as if it caused him great pain.

"Do you feel anything at all?" Nikola asked idly, eyeing the men.

"Like I swallowed a vial of slime," James replied. "And a faint sensation of unease though I think we can note that as an emotional side effect rather than a physical one."

"You shall both be fine," Helen insisted, her voice surprisingly firm. "I expect you will wake up feeling refreshed and shall display perhaps signs of increased physical and mental capability. I hate to be the one to inform you of this, James," she teased, "but you are not the first person to undertake this particular experiment. Nor will you be the first to record it. After all, we have documents dating back over a three thousand years and even more fragments that are far older."

"Shall I leave the ground-breaking developments to you then, darling?" he teased in response offering her his arm. Helen chuckled and accepted, letting him lead her from the room, the others trailing behind.

* * *

Nikola woke suddenly as the door to his room creaked open. It was a well appointed room, decorated and maintained with the same level of care as the rest of the Magnus house yet still, the damn door always creaked.

Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes blearily, blinking towards the source of the noise.

"Did I wake you?" a soft voice said, a head of sorts peeking around the door but without any light, Nikola couldn't tell who it was. Not that he needed to see to know. He would recognise that voice anywhere.

"Helen?"

"I'm sorry," she continued, stepping around the door, single candle in hand. "I... I couldn't sleep."

Nikola merely nodded. Whether this was a dream or real (something he had yet to decide upon), he wasn't quite sure he cared. She seemed more fantasy than reality though, her billowing white nightgown swamping her lithe frame. Her golden curls hung in two long braids, both mussed from sleep. The soft light from her candle bathed her in a warm glow, like a vision from one of Nikola's most favourite dreams. He wanted nothing more than to go to her and fall at her feet to beg for... well, to beg for something.

"Is..." he began, voice tight and a few octaves too high, "is everything..."

"Oh yes," she said, waving one hand absently. "Nigel took over from me about an hour ago. I just... I couldn't sleep."

"Oh. All right," he replied dumbly. Internally, he cursed himself for such a foolish and almost tactless response but between his sleep addled mind and... and... and the creature that stood before him, he couldn't honestly be expected to form coherent sentences, could he?

She seemed to blush faintly though he couldn't make it out in the dim light before casting her gaze down to where her toes were poking out from beneath the hem of her nightgown. The silence stretched on for longer than was comfortable but Nikola simply couldn't stop looking at her long enough to question her presence in his bedchamber so late at night.

Of course, it was her house and, as such, she had the right to use whichever room she wanted whenever she saw fit but, as a general rule, she didn't spend much time loitering about when people were trying to sleep. Well, not that he knew of anyway.

"Is... Did you need something?" he asked gently after a moment. The words still stuck in his throat but Nikola was proud to get them out.

At once her features flashed with regret, teeth worrying her bottom lip.

"No," she breathed. "I... I should... This was foolish."

She turned to leave and Nikola just about jumped from the bed.

"No!" he yelled, wincing at the thought of how desperate it might sound. "No, Helen... I..."

She turned back to him.

"Come and sit," he said, patting the bed and shuffling over. Helen hesitated for the barest of moments before scampering across the room, abandoning her candle on the small table beside his bed. She scrambled atop the bed, getting caught in her nightgown until she collapsed in the centre, fighting to free her limbs.

Nikola pulled his legs up and away, waiting until she was curled up before him before letting out the breath he'd held the moment she'd touched the bed. It still seemed surreal to him that she would call him a friend, let alone visit him late at night. Alone. In a bedchamber.

"Comfortable?" he teased as she made herself at him atop his quilt.

"Rather," she replied with a smile. She relaxed a fraction, it seemed and Nikola felt himself relax too.

He waited for a moment, watching her play with the hem of her nightgown instead of speaking. He surmised she had a purpose in mind with her visit and he doubted highly that it had anything to do with the rather inappropriate things that had first jumped into his mind. Not that holding her to his chest as he slept was overly inappropriate in the scheme of things but it certainly didn't come under the label of appropriate, of that he was sure.

"It's strange," she began softly. "Don't you think?"

"What's strange?"

"Tomorrow we shall embark on possibly the greatest adventure we could ever dream up," she replied with a small smile. "Tomorrow... is the start. Something shall change,  _we_  shall change. It is the beginning of something, I can feel it, Nikola."

"I am glad you're so confident of that," he replied, trying to keep his tone light. "I can't help but think that we're walking into this with both eyes closed. Or, at the very least, no light to guide us."

"Isn't it exciting, though?" she enthused, leaning forwards. "Nikola, we may very well be the first people in history to do what we are proposing. We are the light, the torch for the rest of the world to follow in this. One day, when abnormals are known and understood by the population at large, people shall marvel at the risks we took, at the possibilities we have embraced. We are making history, Niko. How can you not be enthralled by that?"

"Whoever said I wasn't enthralled?" he bit back. "I am every bit as excited as you, Helen. I just... feel some trepidation at what you are proposing we do. You must admit, there are risks and though I firmly believe there is no point to life without risks, you have to at least acknowledge them, Helen."

"I do," she replied, sounding upset at his insinuation. "However they do nothing to curb my enthusiasm for this entire project."

Nikola smirked at her tenacity. Though it was something he always admired in her, he was starting to appreciate how others found it to be... frustrating.

"Well then, perhaps you should get some sleep," he teased. "For tomorrow we shall change the world."

She chuckled, shaking her head before slowly sliding off of the bed.

"You're right," she replied. "Though I'm not sure I will be able to sleep. I'm far too excited."

"Go relieve Nigel," Nikola advised. "I'm sure he's probably asleep at his post anyway."

Again Helen chuckled but she paused beside the bed. She looked between Nikola and the door twice before her eyes settled on the pillow beside Nikola's own.

"I shall see you in the morning, then," Helen said softly, giving Nikola one last fleeting smile before moving to grab her candle from where she had discarded it.

"Helen," Nikola said hurriedly, the word forcing its way out of his mouth despite his best efforts.

She turned and looked at him expectantly.

"I don't suppose you would... I mean... if you would like..." He gestured lamely to the empty half of his bed, shrugging helplessly. "Forget it," he mumbled after a moment. "I... I'll see you in the morning."

Turning over, Nikola hoped to whichever god was listening that the blush of humiliation wasn't a bright as he suspected. He waited, holding his breath as he listened for the footsteps that would mean she was leaving him in peace. But they never came. Instead he heard the rustle of fabric, felt some added weight on the mattress and then, finally, a small hand against his back.

Carefully, Nikola turned, blinking owlishly at the woman curled up beside him.

"Your bed is warmer," she said by way of explanation, shuffling closer to him with a small smile on her face.

Nikola said nothing as he too moved closer, unable to help himself. He was like a moth to a flame. With fingers that were shaking, he reached out and took her hand in his, interlacing their fingers. Helen's smile broadened at that and she settled further into the pillows.

"Sleep," she said through a small yawn. "For tomorrow we will change the world."

Nikola smiled and moved closer again.

"Need to be well rested to remake the world in your image," he replied softly. Helen chuckled sleepily, eyes still closed.

"Would you really do that for me?"

"A thousand times over," Nikola breathed with as much sincerity as he could muster.

Helen didn't reply though, merely humming in contentment that sent strange bolts of happiness straight to his heart.

Nikola slept better than he had in years.


	25. Statements made

**The Magnus Estate, Oxford.**

_**Nigel  
**_ It was odd, you know? To think about injecting yourself with... someone else's that,  _something_ else's blood. It made sense. Logically, it was the next step and, unlike Druitt and Watson, I was all right with that. Not that I didn't understand their... reluctance. I mean, this is taking things to a new level, you know? I just... I wanted to do this, I really did. I didn't doubt the science and it wasn't like I could doubt Helen, right? But... I understood why the others were less certain, you know. Druitt especially. He was... different to the rest of us. More... Well, this is gonna sound cracked but Druitt was more human than us. Not that we weren't. Human that is. We were, Helen probably more so than anyone I'd ever met but Druitt was... I dunno, more maybe? He saw things different, saw the consequences differently. Maybe more clearly too. I understood why he doubted us though. It was... just his way.

 _ **Nikola  
**_ It was far too late at night to escape being classed as a nightmarish story told to scare children. After all, there were owls in the trees outside and a ratting breeze beneath the floorboards though the air still overly warm thanks to the fire which cast odd shadows about the place. I would have laughed if it wouldn't have ruined the mood. There was something special about to happen and I did not have it in me to turn it into a joke, not now. Not that it took away from the rather ghoulish setting we'd created. Perhaps we really were the mad scientists James seemed to think we were. I was not entirely sure Helen could fall under the label but, well, I already knew Druitt thought me to be entirely mad. It had something to do with my accent, I was sure...

 _ **James  
**_ Watching was hard. I simply wasn't used to being on the sidelines. And more than that, I felt a kind of responsibility over them all. I was the eldest, the only one to have completed any kind of formal training and, in some ways, Gregory's stand in. I knew he thought I'd be able to control Helen in his absence (which was a foolish notion entirely) and, with that came the responsibility for the entire group. In some ways, I should have known that it would backfire entirely. When it came down to it, I knew the others would follow Helen's example over mine. She was... enigmatic. It was the only word for it. She had always had something more, something extra that drew people to her. We were like moths to a flame.

 _ **John  
**_ They were just being reckless. Reckless and frightening. The sheer joy in Helen's eyes made my skin crawl, a sensation I had yet to associate with the woman who had entirely stolen my heart. Normally, simply looking at her was enough to make my heart beat faster and my palms prickle but then? Watching her prepare that syringe... It was the closest thing I had ever felt to torture. She was going to come to harm, I just knew it and every cell in my body was crying out for me to tear the damn liquid away from her, to toss it into the fire. I couldn't understand why the others didn't feel the same. Surely their sense of duty required them to stand up and protect Helen? Even if it was from herself.

 _ **James**_  
I had hoped beyond hope that the others would see reason. Nikola was, to my mind, a lost cause. He would follow Helen to the depths of Hell and back, should she so much as smile at the suggestions. But Nigel... he was stronger, more independent. Often he sided with Helen but more of actual personal conviction than blind adoration. I had so dearly hoped that, for once Nigel would side with me. I knew from the start I'd have John's support in stopping the experiment. He was just as put out by the idea as I was, if not more so. Of course, I didn't want to end it entirely, just... delay it. We need more time. More of a chance to properly assess what could happen. There was, of course, no guarantee that we'd ever understand what we were to be jumping into but... Oh, I don't know. It just wasn't right and Helen had to know that.

 _ **Helen**_  
I could see their apprehension. It was written all over their faces. In fact, I could sense that this could all fall apart in half a second. A few well placed words would have helped, but I could not find it in myself to break the silence that had fallen. There was something almost peaceful about it. We so rarely managed actual silence. There was always... something. Whether words that needed to be said or even just the sound of instruments as we worked, there was always something. I liked the lack of silence, for the most part. My life had been so very silent until I met my boys. Growing up alone, with only my father for company on the rare occasion he was around. The maids often made for interesting chatter but none the less, my life had been virtually silent for a very long time.

 _ **Nikola**_  
The room was so warm, I wondered how the others could stand it. It was more for show than anything, the night being so unreasonably warm but Helen had taken pleasure in setting it so I couldn't bring myself to complain about it. That and I was... excited. More than I could explain. It felt as if the world was about to shift beneath my feet as I stood perfectly still to observe it. I knew the others weren't nearly as thrilled about what was about to unfold before us but, for the most part, I didn't care. What were the non-believers to such a world of wonder? I could live quite easily if they did not follow me over the edge into our new lives. Let them dwell in the land of mere mortals as the rest of us soldiered on into a new day. I knew such statements were overly dramatic and more flamboyant than I could normally but sides of me I hardly knew existed had been awakened if only because of the sheer possibilities that were opening to us. With Helen by my side, I knew that no matter how all of this turned out, nothing could truly go wrong.

 _ **Nigel**_  
The waiting was the worst bit. I mean, it felt like an eon had passed and we still hadn't done anything. Part of me wondered if Helen would back out. Of course, the second I had that thought, she was upon us, brandishing the full syringe as she babbled about who wanted to be the one to inject her. I wasn't exactly surprised when Nikola was the first one to volunteer. It was an odd choice, in some ways, considering Tesla's aversion to bodily contact. I remember one night when I just tried to pat him on the back (we were commiserating something, not sure what) and he actually jumped off his bloody seat. Like I had the plague or something. I dunno, he was always an odd bugger, even before I got to know him. Mind you, the fact that he was a bit of a loon didn't really bother me much. We were all pretty messed up if you ask me.

 _ **Helen**_  
I couldn't have asked any of them outright to be the one to inject me, not really. After all, it would put too much responsibility on their shoulders. That's why I wanted a volunteer. I wasn't overly surprised when Nikola was the first to step forwards. I could see the excitement in his eye. He was either unaware of the risks or uncaring but, either way, it did not matter. For a moment, I felt guilty about using him so. After all he was such a good friend to me, in a way no one else had ever been but, in my heart, I knew taking advantage of his... perhaps naivety is not the correct word but it was all I could come up with to classify his exuberance at the time. It was an exuberance I shared but, as the time grew closer, I remember the tips of my fingers going ice cold as the smallest sliver of fear slipped into my heart. I wanted to do this more than anything but still...

 _ **John**_  
I half thought I could see trepidation in Helen's eyes. Of course, she never showed her nerves but, in looking into her eyes, I wholeheartedly believed I could see into her soul and the unease there. She knew it was just as dangerous as I had suggested not a full day previous. More than anything I wanted to offer her an out. She deserved the chance to bow out gracefully, dignity intact. Not that she needed to worry about that; I knew none of the group would ever belittle her for stepping back and thinking a little more closely to what the consequences may be. Well, perhaps Tesla would give her a hard time but I was certain I could silence him if I needed to.

 _ **James**_  
It was nearly impossible to watch, like some sort of explosion happening in slow motion. As Helen rolled up the sleeve of her top, baring her pale skin to the candle light, I could not help but swallow heavily, my heart beat racing. She was so meticulous about it all that I was unable to do anything but watch her as she sat herself in the chair. She fiddled with her hair and her skirts, smoothing out creases that were not there. I could tell she felt uncomfortable, nervous even but what could I have said? Any final plea for her to see reason would have only strengthened her resolve to the point where she'd do something like bathe in the damn blood. For all I love her, Helen's stubbornness extends past the point of sense.

 _ **Nikola**_  
I was taken aback when Nigel offered to go before Helen though I knew, just as he must have, that it was a foolish sentiment. Helen would never let anyone risk themselves like this without trying it herself first. The boys drinking the blood last night was different; it was a compromise that gave them a stake in the experiment whilst leaving them able to sleep soundly knowing they'd be safe from any undue harm. It was, to me, anyway, the cowards way out. Science was supposed to involve risk, it was supposed to involve sacrifice but, to Druitt and Watson, it seemed in involved nothing more than a few passing brain cells. They saw it as a hobby but for Helen, it was her life. Much like it was mine. They simply didn't understand the drive we have.

 _ **John**_  
It was over quicker than I anticipated. The needle slid into her skin with ease, she gasped as Tesla pressed down and then her eyes flew wide with surprise. In total, it took no more than a few seconds.

 _ **Nigel**_  
I watched from behind it all. I didn't really know if I should intrude on what felt like a private moment for Helen. Even with Nikola holding one hand and Druitt crouched by the other, she seemed totally in her own world for a minute after it happened. Her eyes were unfocused, her jaw slack and, when she shivered, she seemed not to see the rest of us in the room with her.

 _ **Nikola**_  
It was the only moment I doubted Helen's unwavering belief that what we were doing was right. Looking back, I'm ashamed to admit the treacherous and slightly treasonous flutter of my heart but, for one long moment, I was unsure. Her hand gripped mine with a strength not entirely her own, her eyes looking unseeing across the room. Though it was a warm evening and the fire was still roaring away in the corner, her hand was cold against mine, her skin flushed with ice. I... I was thankful that the room was full or else I'd have taken Helen into my arms at that point for... for... for I feared she was in pain.

 _ **Helen**_  
I am not ashamed to say that it hurt.

 _ **James**_  
My heart was in my throat as I watched but, no matter how hard I tried, I could not make myself go to her to help. Not even the thought of what Gregory would do to me if I allowed her to die like this could get me to move. Much like when she was settling herself, I was transfixed. It felt as if the entire room was holding its breath. And, to an extent, I assume we probably all were. She was out leader, our fearless and often reckless leader and we couldn't help but love her for it. To watch her like this, though, was unavoidable. Helen had always had the ability to make those around her stare without so much as blinking. It was just her way.

 _ **John**_  
I didn't breath until she managed to look me in the eye. In fact, even then, I was not entirely sure if we were out of the woods. After all, what we were doing had no precedent. We had not practice the method and there had been no discussion of what was to happen afterwards. How were we to take care of her? How were we to know what was a sign of good and what meant we ought to send for a carriage to take her to a hospital? We had no plan and, I think, no idea of what we were to unleash.

 _ **Nikola**_  
My heart was beating a mile a minute. To be honest, I don't quite understand that turn of phrase but, being one I'd heard from Helen on occasion, I thought it to be fitting. But yes, either way, my heart rate was elevated, probably to dangerous levels. I think it was a even mix of fear and elation. Mostly elation, of course. And I could see the same mix in Helen. Her grip on my hand was tight and I could tell she would have been trembling otherwise. I liked to think that it meant she needed me more than the others though I didn't let myself dwell on the idea. After all, there were more important things to worry about. For example, how long Helen would make us wait for our turns.

 _ **Nigel**_  
She was bonkers. Actually cracked. Probably a genius too, I was smart enough to realise that but... God. I don't know why it took me so long to realise it, considering some of the things she'd suggested over time but it sort of hit me, I suppose. But the even stranger thing was, I loved it. It was Helen's way, I guess. She made things that rational people would consider foolish seem like the most natural thing in the world to do. Just watching her as she processed what had happened to her, made me eager to continue, to take my place where she now sat. This plunge was one that I again wanted to take, regardless of the fact that we had no idea what was actually happening to her.

 _ **Helen**_  
By the time the cold passed, I remembered to breathe once more. I knew my hand was clutching a little too tightly to Nikola's but, from the look in his eye, I could tell he understood why I subconsciously anchored myself to a piece of reality. In many ways, it was a half magical experience, if not slightly... unpleasant. Not that I had experienced any serious discomfort. The best comparison I could manage is that it felt as if I was in a blizzard, with nothing more than a cotton slip to protect me though it lasted for barely a second. For such a short period of time, it felt rather monumental. It was as if the world changed in that fleeting moment and my eyes were closed as it happened. Something intangible and beautiful had happened to me, around me, and I had just about missed the moment itself.

 _ **Nigel**_  
I was not surprised when I half had to fight Nikola for the next go.

 _ **Helen**_  
I should have known poor Nigel never stood a chance against Nikola's enthusiasm

 _ **James**_  
I knew the other two would want to just jump straight in, without stepping back to watch Helen for any signs of danger. And I knew Helen would support their want wholeheartedly. After all, where there was trouble to be had, Helen was not far behind.

 _ **John**_  
To my mind, it was too late for all of them now. I didn't really care whether Tesla and Griffin went through with it at that point. All I could focus on was Helen.

 _ **James**_  
After Helen, the act seemed to lose its sense of importance somewhat. Well, almost. I still feared for the others, there was no change in that.

 _ **Nikola**_  
To be honest, I barely felt the prick. It was after that was of particular note, even if it lasted only a few moments.

 _ **Nigel**_  
Watching Tesla made me anxious all over again but, as Helen ushered my into the seat and readied the final syringe, I took comfort in her... normalcy. Not that Helen is ever particularly normal, but she didn't seem any worse for wear. In fact, there was a glow about her that I guessed came from the residual excitement. A less intelligent man would have said she was in love with a man but I knew it was the work that had her heart.

 _ **Nikola  
**_ I think we were all a little unsure of what to do once it was all finished with.

 _ **Helen**_  
I could see James just about to suggest the one thing I had insisted upon the night before and, though I had no want of his concern, I was not certain I could win the argument.

 _ **James**_  
She went without a fight which I found a little astounding. It made me wonder if perhaps the serum they'd injected was already working to alter her in some strange way.

 _ **Nigel**_  
Tired wasn't the right word to explain my state of mind at the time. It was well past 2 in the morning and I knew physically I needed rest but perhaps it was the niggling fear at what we'd just done. Either way, even once they bundled us up into beds in the infirmary, I couldn't sleep for the life of me. Instead I had a craving for a large glass of Dr. Magnus' good brandy that was hidden away in the library.

 _ **John**_  
I volunteered to take the first watch, not because I was awake enough to do the task properly but because I could not climb into my bed, knowing that Helen was down there, suffering through horrors unknown.

 _ **Nikola**_  
It was strange but, while I lay awake, staring at the damp stone ceiling above my bed, all I could think about was that less than 24 hours ago, I was holding Helen in my arms. It seemed a dream to think she'd come to me willingly. Even more so that she'd allowed herself to wake there too. The beds were too narrow to accommodate more than one body at a time and I knew, with two other witnesses around, I had no chance of coercing her into a repeat performance however desperately I may have wanted to.

 _ **Helen**_  
If I could have closed the gap between our beds, I'd have taken Nikola's had in an instant. For all we'd taken the plunge as a group, I felt suddenly as if I was all alone and wanted desperately for another human beings presence close by my side. Instead I had to settle for shifting beneath the thick blankets and turning to watch the others in the room.

 _ **Nigel**_  
Druitt had taken up vigil by the door, hunched into his seat as he surveyed us all with dark eyes. Beside him was the only candle in the damn room, casting barely enough light for me to make out where Tesla lay in the bed beside me and where Helen slept on the other side of the room, her bed pressed against the wall. James always had had a strange sense of propriety, especially when it came to Helen and I thought it was a little unfair that she was forced to sleep so far from the rest of us. I couldn't have been the only one who wanted a little more company around me, could I?

 _ **John**_  
I am ashamed to admit that I had no intention of waking James later to take over for me. In fact, I was waiting for both Tesla and Griffin to fall asleep so that I could speak with Helen for a moment alone. Not that we could be truly alone. It was sentiment, more than anything else. Needless to say, I was more than disappointed when I found her sound asleep just minutes later.

 _ **Nikola**_  
All I know is, one minute I was watching Helen's shoulders rise and fall as her breath evened out and the next, I was gasping awake with a start to find the sunrise streaming in through the single window above Helen's bed.

 _ **Nigel**_  
I didn't dream, I don't think I even moved. It was like... It was night and suddenly morning.

 _ **Helen**_  
And then it was morning, what else can I say?

* * *

_Meanwhile:_

_**_**Port of Dover.** _ ** _

_**Gregory Magnus** _

I wish I could say I knew I was too late. I wish I could say that I had some kind of strange sense that my daughter needed me. I wish I'd known spending two weeks meandering my way back to Oxford was a foolish choice. I wish I could say that I was there in time to stop her. But, alas, I must put it down to another of my failings as a father. I did not know what Helen had planned. I did not know that she needed me there to make clear the mistake she was making. I did not know there was even a need to be there to stop her. In retrospect, I can safely say that I knew nothing of my daughter. Or perhaps that is not entirely true. I knew nothing of what she was capable. In fact, I underestimated her. And I underestimated just how much like her mother she was when she became fixed to an idea. It was stubbornness to the point of danger. And while I would always love her for the independent side she had always clung to, I wish I had known that I was too late the moment I stepped into England once more. I wish I had known. I wish it had been within my power to stop her. Because, while I wanted her to blossom and grow as a young woman and a scientist, I wanted her to be safe more than anything. She could run her own experiments, she could even take charge of our little abnormal sanctuary should the need arise but, in so many ways, she was still just a girl. Just a little girl with little understanding of what the world could inflict on her.

She was just my little girl.

And I had failed to protect her.

God forgive me.


	26. Changes I

It was almost an entire week later and Helen was still sulking. Not that she'd ever admit it. And really, she was entirely within her rights to sulk, wasn't she? After all, for all the hype and fear that had consumed them, very little had really happened, especially to her. Nikola and Nigel had reported, for the first day at least, a feeling of vertigo and general unease but it had passed and left them bereft of symptoms. Helen had, no matter how hard she tried, experienced nothing. Not even a bruise from where the damn serum had been injected.

But that wasn't the worst of it. What made Helen fume more than anything, was watching John and James revel in their new found abilities. Admittedly, the changes had not been overt or boisterous but it was hard for Helen to watch. It was not a side of her that she was particularly proud of but, as she watched James solving mathematical equations without any effort, it was hard to deny the pulse of jealousy. He had always been her intellectual sparring partner, the one she could sit with for hours to debate what the others always thought of as tedious details. It was what their entire relationship was founded on; the idea that they were intellectual equals and now, she felt so much like she was lagging behind.

John's change was far subtler though and, for the most part gave Helen little discomfort. The blood had manifested in a more physical way for him, allowing him to move with an almost unnatural speed and strength. More than once he'd given her a fright by appearing, seemingly out of nowhere and calling out to her casually. His grin as he'd sauntered away from her yelps had been a mite too smug for her liking and had done nothing to improve her mood.

Hiding in her apartments seemed like the best solution, to her mind. After all, no amount of studying them or herself would change where they were.

In a way, it made Helen long for her father. Although she knew all too well how he would disapprove of their project, he no doubt would have been able to provide insight and ideas that she had not thought of. He was always so good at approaching problems from another angle, even better at seeing the things Helen overlooked. Once he had remarked that they worked well together because he saw what she could not and she saw what he could not. And it was true, never in all her life had Helen found someone she worked with more harmoniously than her father. For all their fights and bluster, they both understood each other in a way very few others could.

Plus, to Helen's mind, anyway, there were elements of their style that they shared, allowing for near silent work in their laboratories.

But, while part of Helen was desperate to have her father home again, there was a certain level of independence that his absence afforded her that she found she quite enjoyed. It meant that she could wear men's clothes if she chose (not that she did on a terribly regular basis), that her morning meal could take place in the library and, most importantly, it meant that all of 'her boys' could stay in the house. James had been invited to stay many times by her father and had accept for the most part but Helen just knew how much her father would loathe the idea that the five of them had taken up residence in the house.

Something told her he wouldn't buy the excuse that it gave them all a better chance to care for the ever growing number of abnormals they were providing sanctuary to.

And, in truth, it was not the most intelligent thing they had ever done. The few people at the university who had caught wind of the fact that they were all residing in one house without a proper chaperone had not taken kindly to the news, leading to whispers about Helen's virtue that resulted in Nikola and Nigel getting in a fair amount of trouble for fighting. The whispers had, of course, never made it to Helen's ears but she did not need to hear them to know the content. Her reputation, which had always skated on thin ice, was so close to ruined that she wasn't sure her father would ever forgive her, despite the scientific nature of said ruination.

To Helen, nothing that could ever be said about her would take away the magnificence of what they had been working on so diligently for the past few weeks nor could they shake her determination that they had taken the right course of action. Even if she felt rather jibbed.

Sighing, she shifted restlessly in her seat. One of her legs was beginning to lose sensation from being curled under her for so long and the book she'd been diligently reading all afternoon had lost all interest for her almost an hour ago. In short, she was sick of moping about.

Carefully, she adjusted herself in her seat, smoothing out her crumpled skirt before lifting her head to capture some of the cool breeze floating through her open window. The weather had taken a turn after their injection, the heat rising to the point where Helen almost found it unbearable. Summer had always been her favourite season growing up but, back then, she had been allowed to spend the day swimming in the stream that ran along the rear of the property. That and summer had meant holidays which meant she could come home to see her father, rather than suffer through boarding school. Now, of course, it simply meant that all the layers she had to wear became more stifling than ever.

Perhaps she would change, Helen wondered rather sleepily. She still had a pair of men's trousers from when the boys had dressed her up as a man to sneak her into the local pub. They were strangely comfortable and, paired with her oldest, most comfortable white cotton top, she could perhaps achieve a state of true comfort despite the heat. In fact, she was just starting to rise to locate the top she had in mind when, out of the blue, the door to her room flew open, startling her.

"Helen," James grunted as he staggered in, support John's lanky frame as best he could. Both men were abnormally pale, sweating and chests heaving with exhertion. James seemed slightly better off, his dark curls stuck to his forehead with sweat but his eyes were at least alert and open. John, on the other hand, was barely conscious, his lips moving silently as his head dropped ominously.

"James," she breathed in horror, dashing across the room, the book in her hands discarded in favour of speed. He took another staggering step forward before his knees began to give out, dropping both him and John to the floor. Helen tried her best to support them both but their combined weight overwhelmed her, almost resulting in her pinned beneath them both.

"I..." James began, his voice high and breathy. "We were making tea... To bring... And then... I didn't know what to do."

"Where are the others?" Helen asked, her heart in her throat as she gently rolled John into his side, hands flitting over his damp face cautiously. She paused for a minute at his throat, letting herself relax a mote when she found his pulse.

"Ni... Nigel is in the basement, I think," he huffed, sagging against the door frame. "Dunno... 'bout Nikola."

Swallowing heavily, Helen turned to her friend, prepared to ask more questions only to pull up short at the sight of him. His normally pristine dress shirt was drenched in sweat, clinging to his body. His neck tie had been discarded somewhere and there were worrying streaks of red in their place, making it seem as if he had been clawing at the usually elegant knot around his throat.

"James," she began, hoping her voice would stay steady. "James, I need you to stay awake, all right?"

He nodded but his eyes were still closed. Crawling across the floor to him, she took his face in her hands.

"Listen to me, James," she begged. "Open your eyes, I need you to stay awake. All right?"

Blearily, his eyes fluttered open and he nodded once more.

"Watch John," Helen instructed. "Watch him closely, James. I'll be very upset if you're not awake when I return, understand?"

Again he nodded but Helen sensed that he understood her so she pushed away from him and stood up. Casting one last worried glance over the scene unfolding on the threshold of her bedroom, she turned, gathered her skirts, and run as best she could to the staircase.

* * *

Nikola was easy enough to locate in the library at the back of the house, one of his most favourite hiding places however, even working together, it took them 5 minutes to find Nigel out in the gardens. He was half asleep beneath a shady tree with his hat resting on his belly and, as they woke him with their frightened shouts, he started to sneeze rather violently. Even as they grabbed him, hauling him back to the house, he continued to sniffle and wipe at his nose.

Together, Nigel's cold aside, they managed to make it back to Helen's room just as James' strength gave out. He had moved since Helen left, now sitting beside John with a slack hand against the other man's chest.

"...'elen," he slurred, a small smile appearing on his face before his eyes fluttered closed. Nikola was the quickest, dashing forward to wrap an arm around James' middle to prevent him from falling backwards entirely.

"What the hell is going on?" he breathed, giving Helen a worried look.

"We have to get them down to the infirmary," she barked, ignoring his question. Even if she had the answer, she reasoned, it was not the time to get into details. What mattered most to her at that point were the men lying unconscious just inside the door of her apartments. Her mind was racing as she tried to find an explanation for what was going on whilst, at the same time, doing her best to lift John as Nigel and Nikola started to shift James. He was far heavier than she had anticipated and, no matter how hard she tugged, his body did not move.

For some reason, the fact she couldn't move him brought her to a new state of panic. Her cheeks burned as sweat dampened her temples, her hands shaking dangerously. The panic brought a bad taste to her mouth and she half wanted to retch as she took in John's limp body.

It was her fault. All her fault. Her mistake. Her experiment. Her failing. Their deaths, on her conscience. For even if they didn't pass in the short term, Helen knew enough to understand that the fever that was ravaging their bodies indicated nothing positive. They were ill, gravely so. And Helen knew it was entirely her fault.

"Do you want me to..." Nikola began, looking between Helen and John's limp body.

"No," she said, waving a dismissive hand at him. "Take James first. I'll stay with John for the moment."

Nikola nodded though he seemed unsure as he turned with Nigel, hauling James out the door. Helen watched as they left, willing the tears threatening to disappear before she gave in to the insanity; now, more than ever she knew needed a clear head.

Swallowing, she turned back to John, one hand smoothing across his brow as the other rested upon his broad chest. At some point he must of slipped his traditional jacket and waistcoat off, leaving him in only a thin cotton shirt. Helen could feel the heat of his chest through the fabric as well as the telltale dampness of sweat that had her more worried than before. He was warm, too warm even though it was an exceptionally warm day.

"John," she murmured softly, her voice breaking though she felt no need to try and hide it. After all, who was around to hear her?

Her fingers traced his brow carefully but he didn't stir and it made her heart throb painfully. It wasn't fair that he should be so sick when he had been so against the experiment from the beginning. She had seen the naked fear and apprehension in his eye every time they discussed the possibility of using the blood on themselves and had, for the most part, written it off. But now, just looking at his still form, she understood more of why he had been so afraid.

Why had she been so foolhardy? Why had she insisted upon making them drink the blood? It was James' foolish idea but why had she agreed with it? They all knew that ingesting the blood was occasionally dangerous, more than one mouse had died after their initial tests.

Then a traitorous little thought ran through her mind.

If only her father were there...

He was a doctor, her mind reasoned. He was a capable doctor with great experience when it came to abnormal illness while she... Well, deep down, Helen often felt like something of a fraud. Her education was large enough to rival that of most doctors but, in terms of experience, little she had done could ever be considered 'above board'. She was not, despite her best efforts, a doctor to anyone but herself and, now, looking at what she had done to John, she was quite certain she should never be.

Closing her eyes, Helen wrapped her free hand around one of John's, squeezing lightly as she hoped beyond hope that James would wake and be able to help her. He was not entirely qualified according to the medical community but between the two of them, their medical and scientific knowledge would maybe have been enough to save them both.

The tear that slipped down her cheek, startled Helen somewhat and her eyes flew open with a gasp, one hand flying to her cheek to hide the evidence. She would not cry. It had been months since she'd let herself cry properly though her father's absence had given her much reason to.

Steeling herself, Helen took a deep breath and looked down at John, pursing her lips. She could save him. She would save him. And James too. Not only because she had to but as a test to herself. What kind of doctor-in-training would give in so easily? She had the knowledge to treat them and, in some respects, who better to do so? She had more understanding of their experiment and the blood than any other doctor in the world. More than her father for sure. In fact, only James would probably come close to her breadth and depth of knowledge. And even then, he wasn't nearly as daring as she was.

This was her job, she decided, and she would do it well.

* * *

"So?" Nigel asked, his voice distorted by his stuffed nose. Apparently his head cold was only being exacerbated by his headache from all the alcohol he had consumed the evening previous.

"Best I can tell, they have your cold," Helen replied, wiping her hands on the cotton apron she'd pinned to her dress. "Only... it is far more severe. I can't tell too much without doing rather invasive tests, though."

"What do we do?" Nikola asked, frowning. "I mean, if it is just a cold..."

"Oh no, this is no common cold," Helen corrected sombrely. "John and James... They aren't fighting it. Their bodies are just... giving in."

"But what do we do?" Nikola continued, apparently undeterred by the rather sinister prognosis. "How do we treat them?"

Helen bit her lip. So far, the only solution she had come up with was... daring, to say the least. She wanted to save her friends more than anything and she knew it would be a sentiment echoed by both Nikola and Nigel but... it was daring.

Looking between the two of her boys left standing, Helen felt a strong sense of duty. They were, despite everything, her responsibility. They were 'her' boys for a reason and she could not let them come to any more harm than she had already subjected them to. More than that, she needed be prepared should something happen to Nikola or Nigel. Even her own body was probably susceptible to whatever it was that had so damaged James and John's bodies that they could not resist what seemed to be no more dangerous than a common cold.

There was something in Nikola's eye that, as she met his gaze, had Helen wanting to reach out to him for some foolish attempt at comfort. Logically, she knew that his hand in hers would make no difference when it came to her ability to perform as a doctor to the two men in the other room but, Nikola's presence had always brought her comfort and now was no exception. Even though he seemed a little dubious and, to her mind anyway, sceptical of what she might be about to suggest, part of her wanted to feel his palm against hers as if it would guard her against the ridiculousness of what she was about to suggest.

Looking him straight in the eye, Helen pushed the rather foolish notion from her mind, instead reminding herself of what was really important at that moment.

"I think we need to give them more of the blood," she said before she lost her nerve.

Nikola's eyes widened imperceptibly and inclined his head but said nothing. Nigel simply sneezed.

"Well, what's stopping you?" Nigel asked with a frown. "Shouldn't we, I dunno, get to it, or something?"

"I didn't mean they ought to ingest more," she said softly, staring at the timbers beneath their feet for a moment.

"But we can't," Nikola said bluntly. "They'll die."

"We don't know that," Helen began slowly.

"Like hell we don't," Nigel said, his voice rising in volume just a fraction. "You saw what happened to those mice, Helen. Even if they don't die...  _God_ , I'd rather be dead than go through what those poor creatures suffered."

"Let us go upstairs and sit down to talk about this," Helen tried faintly.

"We have to find a cure," Nigel argued. "A way to... to undo whatever has happened. Maybe there is something in your father's journals, or in whatever that Blackwood fellow found. Something we missed..."

"Nigel..."

"No, Helen," he cut in. "No... You know there has to be another way. Something else. Something... some _way_  to save them."

"I... I'm trying."

A tense silence fell over them for a moment and Helen barely kept the sob threatening inside. Apparently all the resolve in the world was not enough to keep her from tears.

"Just... We have to keep looking," Nigel finally said, his tone softer and less demanding. "We'll find something, Helen. I believe in you."

And with that, he turned away, walking slowly back towards the main staircase. While part of Helen wanted to follow him, to demand he come with her to help, she let her shoulders slump instead. What good was his belief in her when, already, she seemed ready to give in?

She watched as he walked away, his shadow flickering strangely in the dim light from the lantern by the wall. For a moment, Helen would have sworn she could have half seen through him but, she rubbed at her tired eyes, unsurprised when her vision swam with near exhaustion. She needed rest.

She jumped slightly when a hand landed on her shoulder, turning with wide eyes to face Nikola. She'd almost forgotten he was there during the argument with Nigel.

"He is right, Helen," Nikola said softly, his face creasing into a genuine smile Helen fancied only she had ever been graced with. "You will find something, a way to help them. You are a better doctor than you give yourself credit for."

Slowly, he leaned in, pressing a small kiss to her temple before squeezing her shoulder tightly.

"You go rest up," he continued. "I'll watch them until you get back, all right?"

Helen opened her mouth to argue, ready to stay and treat them but, with another squeeze to her shoulder, she nodded.

"I'll be back in an hour," she said tiredly. "I'll get some food and see what more I can find in the library to help."

"Make it two," Nikola insisted. "And throw a nap in there somewhere too."

She chuckled, shaking her head before turning and slowly trudging towards the same stairs Nigel had used.

"Thank you," she called over her shoulder, giving Nikola a small wave which he returned before slipping into the infirmary.

* * *

Nikola rolled his shoulders, trying his best to straighten out the kink developing between his shoulder blades. While he would wait for Helen to return, no matter how long she took (the two hour mark had passed twice over), he desperately wanted something to eat. A nice steak, perhaps, his mind suggested.

Smiling to himself, Nikola stood, giving the two unconscious yet apparently stable men a quick glance before letting his gaze dart to the small room off to the side. More than food, he needed to use the bathroom.

How much trouble could they get into, really? After all, they were barely able to lift an arm, he reasoned. Swiftly, and without giving it another thought, Nikola crossed the room and slipped through the door, shutting it gently behind himself.

After all, how much trouble could they get into?

Afterwards, he took a moment to scrub a hand over his face, opening his jaw wide in the hopes that it would awaken himself blinked a few times at the mirror, eyes struggling to adjust to the dim light in the washroom, before he gasped softly in shock.

His eyes were black.

He stumbled back, knocking the pitcher of water by his elbow to the ground with a clatter. Tripping over his own feet, he raised a hand to his face once more as he fell, the other flying wide to try and stop the fall but only succeeding to knock yet more things to the floor. The tray carrying the towels dented the floor, bouncing around for a moment and sounding three times as loud in the confined space.

Not that Nikola heard it.

He was hurrying to his feet again, rushing to the mirror and gripping the small table before it with both hands until his knuckles turned white. His breathing was laboured as he watched his appearance, trying to reconcile the blue eyes he now saw with the strange black orbs that had before graced his appearance. When, after a moment, it became apparent that nothing was changing again, Nikola slowly walked backwards, nearly tripping on the debris he had scattered around the room.

When his back was against the door, his eyes still glued to his reflection, horror the only strange thing upon his face, he fumbled for the knob, opening it slowly and slipping out once more into the cool of the infirmary. His chest was heaving still and, as he looked around the still silent and mostly empty room, he tried to rationalise what something in him knew had no rational explanation.


	27. Changes II

Helen took a deep breath, rubbing two fingers against her temple before turning back to the reams of papers stacked before her. She'd been reading them for near four hours now and was no closer to finding the clues she had hoped for. Her eyes were beginning to ache, a throb developing between her shoulder blades and her head was teetering on the precipice of migraine. But she could not stop. There was too much to do and she had so few answers.

Nigel had come to lend a grudging hand for an hour before taking a book down with him to relieve Nikola from his post. Helen had thought Nikola would have been at her side in a second but, so far, she was yet to see him. Not that she minded overly much. Nikola was a distraction she could hardly afford for the time being. While his company was always pleasant, she did not need someone to try and pull her away from her frantic studies. In fact, what she needed was someone who understood the human body AND the vampire blood as well as she did. She needed an intellectual equal. She needed someone to help her.

She needed James.

No, she reprimanded herself. She would not fall back into that state of longing. James' help would have been invaluable but she would simply have to make do with her own mind. James had told her several times that she was just as competent as he when it came to medicinal matters and it was only when they turned to debating the developing science of surgical medicine that he felt he had any argument to superiority.

However, even reminding herself of that fact made no difference to her confidence. If anything, it made her wish for James' assuredness even more. She had briefly considered going down to see him in the hopes that even his unconscious form would inspire her to some magical cure. So far she had resisted, instead devoting her entire focus to any and every text she could get her hands on. Some had presented interesting theories but almost all required further reading that Helen either could not find or could not translate without assistance. It was infuriating and only served to make her more frustrated to the point where she'd torn a page out in fury.

What made matters worse was that, deep down, Helen suspected there was only one possible action worth pursuing and it would not be a popular one.

When she had first suggested it, she had been reasonably certain that it was the only thing for it. She had hoped to be proven wrong, if only to provide them with a more concrete solution but absolutely nothing she'd come across so far had even hinted at an alternative. It was why Nigel had effectively run away. Helen didn't blame him; she wanted to find something else to try just as much as he did though she was more realistic.

They were fast running out of options.

Helen ran a hand through her hair, leaning back from the table. She was only moments away from reaching the conclusion she didn't want to think on. Next she would have to go find Nigel and once more work through the argument he was intent on having before finding Nikola. She hoped beyond reason that he would not be so adverse to her plan of action.

There really was nothing for it. Not a single piece of research she had gotten her hands on even suggested that someone would suffer in the way James and John were. Whether it was because the blood ought to have been consumed at a consistent rate or that their bodies were not accustomed to it, Helen was unsure but really, she did not feel that it mattered. They were sick, regardless of the ongoing cause, and it was her duty to help them.

Slowly, she pushed up from the table, a small bead of discomfort bubbling away deep inside her. The thought of seeking out Nigel made her stomach knot, even though she knew she was almost certainly right. She'd never really been one to shy away from an argument but, at that moment, the thought of another fight was unbearable.

Perhaps if she were to sneak down and administer the serum without him knowing…

Then the door slammed open, revealing a panting Nigel.

"Helen," he huffed. "Somethin's wrong. They're seein' things. I dunno what to do."

She hurried towards him, leaving papers scattered in her wake but she couldn't bring herself to care. All of a sudden, her heart was in her throat. Though she'd been working for hours half wanting a complication to work from, suddenly she was terrified. Nigel's stricken face only made matters worse.

She opened her mouth to speak, to ask him for more information when, suddenly, he disappeared. Helen stopped in her place, a tiny yelp slipping through her lips as the hand holding her skirts off the floor slackened.

"Nigel," she breathed.

"Wot?"

And then he was back. Not that he'd disappeared entirely. It… it was just his head. Helen swallowed.

"Helen?" he prompted gruffly.

She must have been going insane.

"Are you coming or what?"

"Y-yes," she whispered, shaking her head slightly at her own foolishness. She couldn't have seen what she thought. Could she? It was late, after all, and dark and her eyes were strained from her constant struggles to read the small print of her father's oldest tomes. She was just seeing things.

Wasn't she?

"Well come on then," he growled, gesturing towards the corridor with little patience for her. Helen swallowed once more and hurried out, not meeting his eye as she went.

Together they half sprinted down the staircases, not speaking as they went. Helen nearly tripped a dozen times, her nerves, fear and blatant uncertainty at her own mind somehow bringing her skirts further beneath her feet. Several times she had to reach for Nigel to steady herself but he was too quick, walking too far ahead to be of any real use to her.

Instead she kept a hand on the wall, fingers curling around door frames as she swung herself around a corner just a little too fast, tripping once more and lunging for Nigel as they both skittered to a halt just inside the door of the infirmary. Nikola was kneeling between both the beds, a damp cloth in each hand that he hastily mopped across the brows of their half conscious friends. If Helen hadn't been so terrified for the two men in the beds, she would have started at the sight he presented. Nikola, though essentially caring, almost never willingly touched anyone but her.

Nikola looked up as they entered, eyes wide and panicked.

"Help," he gasped out, letting go of the damp clothes. "I… I don't…"

Helen nodded once, pursing her lips before shoving Nigel aside to clear a path. Nikola stood hastily, flattening himself against the wall to make more room for Helen.

She pressed a hand first to John's flushed, damp cheek and then to James', biting her lip at the almost scalding temperature of their skin. They were far more advanced than she had ever supposed. For what she had suspected to be nothing more than a common cold, their fevers were dangerously high, and, as John started to mutter breathily about something she could not discern.

"How long have they been like this?" she asked softly, sitting beside James, her fingers feeling gently for his pulse. He too moaned at the contact, his head lolling forwards with a tiny frown.

"Len," he breathed, leaning towards her hand slightly. "Len."

"It's me, James. It's Helen," she replied, leaning over him as one hand cupped his cheek.

"Len," he murmured again, this time sounding a little less pained.

"Shh," she soothed, stroking his brow. "Rest, James." She was rather proud that her voice didn't waver as she spoke despite the slight tremor in the tips of her fingers. Not even in the depths of her heart would she allow herself to admit just how very scared she was. The niggling voice in her mind reminded her again and again that she was not cut out for this, that she was not a 'proper' doctor.

"Len," he gasped out again. "S-sore."

"I know," she soothed again. "We're going to help you, James. I promise."

He moaned, brow furrowing, leaning in to her touch. She could half sense his confusion, apparently just as much in the dark as to what caused his discomfort as she was, and it broke her heart to watch him.

Turning to Nigel and Nikola, she steeled herself, putting on her very best 'Doctor Magnus' face. She was certain she didn't look half as terrifying as her father could have managed but it seemed to work, both boys straightening up and looking to her with nearly imploring eyes.

"Nigel, go get the serum," she snapped. He, predictably, opened his mouth to protest but she silenced him with a glare, holding up a single finger to hold him at bay. "Now," she said, her tone dismissive.

There was a beat in which Helen doubted her persuasiveness but, in the fullness of time, Nigel left the room at a decent enough pace. Nikola stepped forward in his place, seeming boyishly eager. Helen wanted in that moment to move towards him, to take comfort in his embrace but, pushing the thought aside, she returned her gaze to her patients.

"Did you notice anything while you were watching them?" Her question was directed to Nikola though she did not dare look up from James' flushed features.

"No," Nikola murmured. "I… I… They were so warm. The fever… I… Helen."

"There is no logical reason for this," she whispered to herself.

"Helen?" Nikola stuttered, his voice a few octaves higher than before. "Helen… I think… Something is wrong."

"I can see that," she snapped, frowning at him. "Now go make yourself useful. I need towels and a fresh bowl of cool water. And perhaps a vial of smelling salts."

Nikola's mouth opened and closed dumbly a few times as Helen watched him, his eyes clouded with something unsaid, but, in that moment, she hardly had time to process whatever it was that could have been bothering him.

"Go," she urged, her tone unforgiving but it seemed to work, spurring him into action. He hurried out of the room, leaving Helen to her charges. A brief sensation of discomfort ran through her but she disregarded it. Her dismissal of Nikola was reasoned and she was certain there were more pressing things to dwell on. Later she could sit with him and apologise over a cup of tea.

Instead, she drew in a deep breath, pretending it could dispel the last of her nerves even if the flutter deep in her gut said otherwise.

She looked over her patients quickly, trying to find a clinical eye that could create some distance for her. They looked… worse, she decided. Much worse. The thought made her cheeks burn in shame no matter how hard she tried to remain professional. Taking another breath, Helen tried to steady herself a little.

They were worse, yes however what she saw confirmed her earlier suspicions that they suffered from little more than a nasty chest infection. Normally she would… she would… she would... prescribe bed rest, she decided somewhat firmly. In normal circumstances, she would advise a warm, dry room and plenty of fluids. Then she would wait to see if the fever broke.

Looking down at James' slack face, she instinctively knew, however, that this was not a fever that would ever break. She did not have the time to watch them, to monitor the progress of their infection because there was simply not enough time. If she waited any longer to see if the infection would resolve, they would not make it through the night.

Thinking back, Helen closed her eyes as she tried to recall any poultices she had learned of that would perhaps provide them with some relief but, beyond a few medicinal herbs that she'd once used on a sickly abnormal, there was nothing she could think of that would resolve an infection this far gone. More than that, considering the speed with which the infection had taken hold of their bodies, she doubted that any conventional medicines would work to heal them.

No, she had only one choice left to her. It was not elegant, nor scientifically backed but, honestly, Helen wasn't sure how much she had to lose at this point. Both men were beyond the reaches of medicine as the world at large understood it. Even with her knowledge of abnormal medicines and the beneficial properties many of them were able to bestow on people, Helen was at a loss as to what would truly help them.

All that was left to her was the blood.

It was dangerous, as Nigel had pointed out time and time again. They had proven more than once that, once ingested the blood could have devastating effects if injected. It had caused madness in the mice they had tested at best; at worst, a painful and lingering death.

However, she reasoned, none of the mice they had injected had ever experienced such violent reactions as the serum wore off. In fact, that had, much like the people in the old legends Helen had taken to reading every night before bed, simply returned to normal, with not a trace of the altered substance in their blood streams.

Best she could tell, both men were suffering from a compromised immunity to common ailments. Neither displayed traits she would have associated with severe diseases nor showed any indication that they had come into contact with a communicable but rare disease. In fact, until a few hours ago, they had been in the peak of health. Even as she'd watched the gifts bestowed by the blood slowly fade, their physical wellbeing had remained consistently impressive.

It would have been enough even to challenge her father's medical knowledge, let alone her own lacking one though the thought bought Helen no comfort. She wanted more than anything to make her friends better. It was a personal challenge as well as a professional one that she was all too invested in. If their deaths were on her conscious, Helen wasn't entirely sure she'd be able to live with herself.

At that, she had to fight down a choked sob. The idea of a world without James and John in it barely warranted mention, let alone possibility. To Helen, there was little more important that her four boys. Perhaps her father held a more dear place in her heart but only through sheer length of acquaintance. Her four boys, her beautiful, wondrous boys who treated her with more love and respect that any of the female friends she'd endured over the years, who she loved as if they were her own flesh and blood, meant more than words could ever convey. She was eternally grateful to them for all they had done for her, with her. She could not lose them.

Who else in the world would she have, then?

Just as her mind began to dwell on the dark future she suddenly saw unfolding before her, Nigel and Nikola stumbled back into the room one after another. Nikola's arms were laden with towels and a pitcher of ice water while Nigel cradled what was left of their altered source blood.

This was it, then.

"Come," she ordered, beckoning both boys towards her. They came quickly, their faces the perfect picture of terror, though, thankfully, they were both relatively steady. In fact, Nikola barely spilt a drop as he struggled to find a flat surface to place everything on.

Nigel's hands, however, trembled as he handed everything to Helen, his arms springing back as if he was terrified of being any further involved. She ignored his reaction, working hard to focus only on what was required of her.

"Are... Perhaps you should get some sleep?" Nigel tried, his fight apparently gone.

"I'm not tired," Helen replied curtly. "And there is no time to waste."

The candles and oil lamps around the room cast strange shadows across them all, and, as she looked at John, Helen was startled by the harsh planes of light and dark that danced over his features. The sweat on his brow reflected the dappled light too, adding a ghastly sheen to his face. It all came together to present a rather terrifying and ghoulish look that had Helen shivering.

Biting her lip, she turned from him and back to the blood in her hands. With more care than the task probably need, she drew the serum up into the syringe Nigel had brought for her, measuring it carefully. She wanted to give them half of what she, Nikola and Nigel had injected themselves with, uncertain how the already deathly sick bodies before her would react to an overload of the foreign substance but, in the same breath, part of her argued that they needed more to truly help their bodies, a small amount doing nothing more than to sustain their bodies for a few more moments.

Inside she warred as, outwardly, she worked to remain calm and in control of her extremities. In the end, she selected an amount not quite half what there's had been yet not the full amount either, silently praying to a god she'd given up believing in when she was no more than eight years old.

It had to work.

Did it not?

Much like when Nikola had injected her, the needle slid into James' skin with little effort and, thanks to his lack of consciousness, he did not flinch.

She didn't dare let herself think as she quickly reached for a second syringe, filling it before injecting John with just as little emotion before standing up perfectly straight.

When it was done, she paused for a second, her head swimming as she allowed herself to digest just what she had done. Her hands shook as her knees turned soft, the weight of everything threatening to send her tumbling to the floor. It was only by the slimmest of margins that she avoided any such behaviour, somehow managing to breathe deeply enough that the oxygen kept her upright.

Slowly she turned to the others, ready to once more give them their orders but there was something on Nikola's face that caught her attention. In the lack of lighting, he looked paler than usual, his features drawn and grey, dark circles highlighting his sunken eyes. It was as if he had aged 60 years in a matter of hours.

"Niko," she said softly, forgetting for the moment that Nigel was there and watching them intently. Nikola merely swallowed, shaking his head a fraction.

She opened her mouth to continue but, before the words could escape, something caught her eye.

Nigel.

Only it wasn't Nigel.

Just his clothes.

Her shriek was undignified and inexplicable but, as one hand flew to her mouth and the small vial of left over serum fell from her hand to smash against the cold stone beneath their feet, there was little she could do that was dignified.

Nikola gasped something in Serbian, the words not understood but familiar enough to Helen that she knew he was swearing at the sight of their now missing friend.

"Wot?"

It was Nigel's voice. Coming from where Nigel's clothes hung in the air.

But how could it come from Nigel?

"Nigel," Helen stuttered, her voice shaking. "Nigel, I..."

And then, just as suddenly as he had disappeared, he was back.

She yelped again only this time it was drowned out by Nikola's exclamation of surprise. She whipped back around to face him, noting that he had one hand clamped to his mouth, eyes wide in alarm but she was unable to source just what had him in such a state.

Helen went to step towards him, holding one hand out only to realise that the tips were bloodied. She went to reach back for one of the towels Nikola had stowed at the end of James' bed when the occupant of said bed began to thrash wildly.

All other thoughts forgotten, Helen turned to her patients, her hands going to James' shoulders as she tried to hold him still while, in the other bed, John began to moan softly, coming back to reality with what appeared to be a rather rude awakening. He was frowning, shifting beneath the sheets Helen had pulled up hours ago. She could see his hands searching for something amongst the sheets but, before she could consider why he wanted something to grasp, James was grasping at her arms, nails scratching at the exposed skin of her arms while his eyes flew open, imploring silently that she help in some way.

Overwhelmed by the sudden change in her charges, Helen swallowed heavily, trying to think her way out of it all. Perhaps the other two could help...

She turned to request as such only to watch as Nikola, hand still pressed to his mouth, fainted dead away.


	28. Changes III

When Nikola awoke, he was greeted with several rather strange sensations all at once. Firstly, his hips in particular were sore while the entirety of his lower body was a few degrees colder than normal. The flagstone floor beneath him was unforgiving and, as he shifted in an vain attempt to move from the coldness, his hip began to throb even more painfully.

The second rather strange thing was the fact that, while his lower body was uncomfortable and cold, his head and shoulders were being cushioned by miles of soft, sweet smelling fabric. He groaned softly, moving to burrow his face further into the soft cushion of fabric until his nose brushed against something harder than he expected.

Soft murmurings from somewhere above him briefly filtered through his consciousness but Nikola did his best to ignore it, bringing one hand up to hold his pillow in place.

And then his pillow moved.

A foreign hand ran through his hair, nails scrapping ever so gently at his scalp and Nikola found the tension in his body dissipate, even the painful stiffness of his lower limbs soothed by the touch. Which was odd, he decided. Because he didn't like it when people touched his hair. Or when people touched his person in general.

People had germs and germs meant sickness. Plus people often smelt rather terrible  _and_  held little physical interest for him.

People were, in every definition of the word, messy.

But, for some reason, Nikola found himself almost perfectly at ease with absolutely everything that was occurring in that very second. And, when, after further nuzzling into the fabric his head rested upon, he encountered yet another set of delightfully sweet scents, he decided that he would be perfectly content to stay where he was for the rest of his days.

The fabric beneath his cheek was slightly rough, as if someone had meant for it to be more durable, however the sensation was not unpleasant. In fact, the warmth of it was delectable. Between it and the soft, slow press of fingers through his hair, Nikola was certain he was in some kind of heaven.

Part of his mind was slowly starting to suggest that getting up or even opening an eye would be advisable but Nikola did his very best to ignore that voice, pressing his face deeper into the pillow of fabrics and inhaling deeply once more. The more logical thought processes he prided himself on were starting to come back to the forefront of his mind no matter how hard he tried to suppress them. He could only content himself with sensation so long, it seemed. Now the overwhelming need to open his eyes and take in whatever heavenly body was touching him with such reverence was sneaking up on him until, finally, he succumbed to his trademark curiosity.

However, the sight that greeted him provided no more explanation as to his predicament.

The fabric beneath his head that, after his continual attempt to bury himself in it, now obscured his vision, was a dark red, like a particularly good glass of wine. Small streaks of light were making their way to the very edges of his vision and, again cursing his curiosity, Nikola turned his head to better understand where he was.

The ceiling was familiar, as were the candles mounted on the walls. With his nose now free, he could pick up an entirely new range of scents, the most pervasive of which, was blood. It was tangy and salty and somehow beautiful. It filled his nose, settling on the back of his tongue, thick and overwhelming and... and... and delicious.

At that, he sprung upwards, scrambling away from the warm, delightful fluff of fabrics he'd been resting against, eyes wide as his gaze darted around the room.

"Nikola?"

He barely heard his name, his heart pounding in his ears and breath coming in loud, gasping pants that had his entire body shifting. He could feel his own disgust with himself warring against the sensations that had his mouth watering at the faintest scent of blood. He tried breathing through his mouth alone, desperate to rid himself of the want pounding though his veins.

"Nikola?" someone said again. He snapped around, focusing on the sound of the noise. It was louder than he anticipated, the voice booming through the room. Which was odd because it was Helen speaking and though her tone almost always commanded attention, he'd never before described her voice as 'booming'.

But it was.

"Niko?" she said, scooting forwards. He frowned, wondering exactly why she was on the floor. More importantly, why was he on the floor? "Niko, what's the matter?"

He looked up to her again, astounded by the clarity with which he could see her. Each curl stood out, glistening in the half light while the little fly away hairs around her temples flitted about in a most distracting way. Her eyes which, to him, had always seemed so beautifully deep with flecks of colour, now seemed even more astounding, now full of colours he'd never seen before, let alone had a name for. He could have very well drowned in the look she was giving him.

Nikola watched as she blinked, the long eyelashes he'd noted all those months ago casting beautiful shadows against the cream of her cheeks. The way her cheeks twitched as she watched him, the way her lips shuddering with each intake of breath, made strange things within him flutter to life. Things that, as he noted the flush of soft pink beneath the flimsy, paper thin covering of her skin, grew to a dull roar at the base of his skull.

"He-len," he croaked.

She breathed a soft sight of relief, the corners of her moist, pink lips turning up slightly in a smile. He could hear a soft thud of something raise in pitch slightly before evening off. His breathing increased as the steady thud began to resonate within his body, making his teeth ache slightly.

"You all right, mate?" another voice said from somewhere off to Nikola's right. His gaze flicked up, taking in Nigel's form slouching against the furthest wall before he looked back to Helen.

"You gave me a fright," Helen said. It almost sounded as if she was trying to speak softly but still, her voice was too loud, making Nikola's ears tingle and a strangely sweet taste appearing down the right hand side of his tongue.

She was still talking, her pale brows furrowing slightly until a crease appeared between them, but Nikola found himself unable to focus on the words, no matter how loudly she was speaking.

He was leaning towards her, his heart shuddering while something hot and burning started to snake up his spine. The sweet taste disappeared, turning dark and seductive instead as he swayed up onto his knees. He could feel himself reaching for Helen, her warmth and beauty drawing him like a moth to a flame even though she was frowning at him.

And then he was falling into her, his senses addled and confused and lost to him for a few long moments. It wasn't until his temple impacted her shoulder and a pair of small hands landed upon his arms that he remembered to breathe, or even that he could. Helen was saying his name repeatedly, her tone laced with fear and, as she cupped his cheek, his own fear started to mirror hers.

It was strange in that, although he could feel her cupping his cheek, in the same breath, he couldn't.

"Helen," he rasped, wrapping his hand around her wrist to hold her to him. "Helen," he said again, growing more desperate. There was something wrong, he was certain of it but not only was he struggling to identify just what was the problem, but he was also struggling to find the words to express as such to Helen.

Part of him was certain that she'd be able to provide at least some kind of explanation to whatever had suddenly overcome him, in fact, he was desperate for that to be the case.

"Helen," he said again, his voice clearer. The sensation of her hand upon his cheek was steadily becoming more solid, as was the feel of the skin of her wrist beneath his fingertips. The world was ever so slightly starting to right itself and his inability to look away from her eyelashes diminishing, leaving him instead with an extreme sense of fatigue.

"Whatever is the matter, Niko?" Helen asked softly, her voice no longer ringing in his ears.

"I... I am uncertain," Nikola breathed in reply. He looked her straight in the eye, desperate to see some understanding, if not consolation in her gaze but, instead he was greeted with yet more uncertainty and confusion.

"Help me get him into a bed," Helen said, turning to Nigel though she did not remove her hand from his face.

"No," Nikola said, his voice a little stronger. "No. I... It is passing."

"Nikola, something is very wrong with you," she said gravely. "You've been unconscious for nearly an hour and... your eyes. Something...  _happened._ "

"All I require is a moment," he insisted, taking a deep breath. The room was perfectly still, however Nikola could still detect the same, if not subtler scent from before that left a peculiar, not entirely unpleasant taste in the back of his mouth.

Helen was still watching him warily, her mouth puckered in something of a frown.

"I... I felt peculiar," Nikola said, using the most English turn of phrase he could summon. "But I am fine now, Helen. I give you my word."

She seemed to relax a little at his words, apparently unaware that he was lying rather poorly. Nikola knew full well that he was not any better than he had been moments ago. Yes his vision had cleared and he could focus on Helen more easily, but he knew, deep down, there was something astoundingly wrong with him.

As if to disprove the niggling fear brewing within his belly, Nikola pushed himself up off of the ground, smiling down at Helen even as his vision swam before holding a hand out to her. She took in somewhat reluctantly, allowing him to pull her to her feet. And then, on a whim, Nikola used her lack of balance to pull Helen into his arms. She squeaked as she fell into him and, for a brief moment, Nikola wondered if he could stay upright but, before Helen did so much as blink, his arms were around her, confidence restored.

"See?" he drawled, enjoying the way she fitted in his arms. "I told you I was all better."

Helen seemed to freeze for a brief moment, her eyes going wide in a way that made something within Nikola jump about frantically until she pushed away, rolling her eyes.

"Much better," she replied with a shake of her head designed to cover a smile. "However," she continued, "do not think you shall get out of any number of tests and examinations when we have less pressing issues."

Nikola groaned, hanging his head as he tried to pretend that his heart was not beating far faster than it had any right to in fear of her threat.

"Don't look so hurt, Tesla. We're all likely to be up for all manner of poking and prodding from our soon-to-be-doctor," a voice said, startling Nikola. He turned, taking an involuntary step back as he took in James' slightly humoured smile from where he sat in one of the two infirmary beds. Beside him in much the same state was John, though his expression was far less welcoming.

"I'm afraid he's right," Helen said, smiling rather broadly. "Now Nikola, unless you would like me to tie you to a bed, I suggest you sit over there and rest. Perhaps have a drink, too. I shan't be pleased if you faint again and give me another patient to deal with."

Blinking dumbly at the two now apparently perfectly healthy men sitting up in bed, Nikola made his way to the rough wooden chair by the door. He sat, rather glad to give his legs something of a rest, and watched as Helen flitted about the room, clearly in her element. Just watching the way she moved, the play of muscle beneath the back of her dress mesmerising to Nikola. There was something fascinatingly strong about her, in body and mind. It was so unusual to see in a woman, let alone a delicate woman of supposedly delicate sensibilities. Nothing about Helen was truly delicate, or at least not in the traditional sense. Often, Nikola felt she was like a sharp, polished diamond encased in the finest, most delicate silk; a living, breathing contradiction.

He wanted to go to her, to run his hands across every span of her body and take in everything that made up  _her,_  made up  _his_  Helen.

And then he started. Where on earth had that come from?

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Nikola blew out a deep breath to steady himself somewhat. He had no claim to Helen, let alone any true reason to be running his hands over her body. Not that he'd ever be running his hands over anyone's body; too many germs.

He shook his head slightly, bowing his shoulders and closing his eyes. The sound of the rain hitting the roof soothed him slightly, allowing him to, at the very least, ignore any of his more troubling thoughts. The steady thrum had always calmed him, even as a boy. His mother had thought him perfectly odd for the way he enjoyed thunderstorms though she'd always maintained that his birth during the fiercest storm she'd ever born witness to had everything to do with it. Regardless, each push of rain against the roof pulsed through his veins, slowing his heartrate and with it, his anxiety.

He didn't even realise he'd let out a contented little sigh until he heard James, Nigel and John chuckling. He looked up, frowning slightly at Helen's amused little smirk.

"Feeling better then?" James asked.

Nikola scowled at him.

"It is the rain," he grumbled.

"Rain?" Helen echoed.

"Yes, rain." He turned his scowl to Helen, unwilling to discuss his sentimental attachment to the current weather.

There was an uncomfortable beat of silence before Nigel cleared his throat.

"There's no rain, mate," he said cautiously.

"Even if there was, we couldn't hear it all the way down here," Helen said. "There are two thick floors between us and any glass or roofing."

"It's raining," Nikola said, shaking his head. "And-" he paused, looking about the room, "there! Did you not hear that? Thunder."

They all fell silent and the sound of the rain grew in his ears, the static-y silence of lightening followed by deep rumbles of thunder.

"Nikola," Helen began slowly. "I think you're hearing things, if you'd let me run a test-"

"No," James cut in suddenly, looking at Nikola with some strange kind of fascination. "No, go check, Helen. I don't think Nikola is hearing anything. Or at least, not anything that isn't there."

"What are you on about, Watson?" Nigel asked.

"I... I can't hear anything," John said softly, frowning as he concentrated until, with a crackle and pop and a dash of red smoke, he disappeared.

Helen shrieked.

James jumped.

Nigel swore.

Nikola's eyes widened until he thought they may just pop out of his head.

Helen was the first to move, throwing herself at John's empty bed, hands swiping desperately at the sheets as if she could summon him back with a wave of her fingers.

Nigel swore again, falling back against the door while James continued to regard the bed in a quiet state of shock. Nikola felt his limbs begin to tremble as he worked to stay calm though every desperate thought he had was of alarm.

And then he heard it.

The voice was unmistakeably John, his frenzied cries for help starting Nikola into a state of further panic. He jumped to his feet, not certain of where he was going or what he would do but knowing he ought to be prepared to do something.

"Nikola?" Helen asked, her voice breathless and strained.

"I..." he tried, shifting his weight forwards.

James regarded him queerly, watching as Nikola fought to contain a sudden trembling of his limbs. He needed to go, to move, to do something. John's cries were getting more and more panicked and the weather getting more and more inhospitable and Nikola couldn't figure out why the others weren't going to his aid.

And then James' eyes opened wider than they ought to.

"Where is he, Nikola?" he asked hurriedly, tossing back his sheets. His feet reached the cold stone floor just as Helen realised what he was attempting to do.

"James, get back in bed," she tried.

"Where, Nikola?" James pressed, ignoring her as he stumbled towards the other man.

"Ou-outside," he huffed. "I... I think. I ca-can hear... It's John."

"John?" Nigel echoed, taking a step forward.

"We have t-to he-help him," Nikola tried, his voice wavering under the scrutiny of the others. They were getting too close to him now, their body heat nearly unbearable. He went to move back from them but not only did they follow him far too closely, but the stone wall behind him gave Nikola no means of escape.

"Show me," James almost growled, eyes growing dark. He stumbled and reached for Nikola, his fingers just barely managing to take a hold of the fabric of Nikola's shirt sleeve. Nikola jerked away from the too warm touch, gasping in a stuttering breath of air tainted with a scent heady and intoxicating.

"C'mon, Tesla," Nigel put in, grabbing him by the shoulder and shoving him towards the door. "Show us."

The door gave way beneath his hand, the cool, clean air of the corridor settling his nerves a little though the two men pushing at his back did not help things. He could hear Helen from her place on the bed crying in alarm after them, begging them to return to bed so she could check on them but, with Nigel and James' new found belief in Nikola resulting in several unfriendly pokes in the back, Nikola had no choice but to race up the stairs. He listened closely to John's voice, following the sound of his fear blindly. The footsteps of the others soon fell away behind him but Nikola couldn't stop.

His heart beat was loud in his ears yet not as fierce as he would have thought and, though he'd always made sure to keep fit enough, the speed with which Nikola was moving through the halls of the Magnus' Oxford home was one he had never before sustained for such a period of time. Not that Nikola was much of a runner but since he'd known Helen, he'd found he had more and more reason to be running.

Regardless, Nikola knew he was moving in the right direction. John's calls for help were growing louder and louder, much like the crack of thunder than threatened to drown out John's voice.

Nikola pushed on, more and more determined to find John for some kind of perverse reason he couldn't identify.

He threw open the door that led from the sitting room at the rear of the house to the gardens, sucking in a deep breath as he did so. His eyes scanned the dark expanse of carefully manicured lawns, a sudden bolt of lightening giving him just enough light to make out John's tall figure a little way off.

In a heart beat, Nikola was after him, running at full speed, every muscle on high alert as he continued to scan the grounds for any signs of John. Another well timed bolt of lightening helped him to ascertain exactly where his prey was but, suddenly, time slowed down.

He could see John not ten foot from where he was, clear as day. And he could see the path of the lightening about the strike the ground. There was a faint blue static surrounding the other man, trailing high up into the sky like a beacon to the Gods of Thunder. The sight was almost beautiful and Nikola wondered why he'd never noticed it before. He'd watched so very many thunderstorms yet his eyes had never managed to see the electricity as it crackled in the air, drawing down the electricity from the clouds to earth.

Suddenly, Nikola wanted nothing more than learn to harness such beauty.

And then he remembered John. John. The beacon for the electricity, drawing down the raw power of nature. Into his body.

Nikola threw himself across the distance between them, somehow certain that he'd reach the other man in time though just why he thought using his body as a shield was a good idea, was beyond him. But none the less, as he made contact with John, forcing the other man to the ground, he made certain the arch his back to capture the impact as best he could.

It burned, he noted with a strange sense of detachment. The electricity searing through his body burned like nothing he had ever felt. It carried an intensity he had not been prepared for but he welcomed it, welcomed the strange sensation that floated through his limbs, awakening each sinew, each muscle, each bone of his body until he felt full to bursting.

There was something else though, something dark and sinister and controlling that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up without the help of the electricity coursing through his body. He pushed at it, forcing it as far from him as he could manage but it fought back. It snarled at him, snaking past his guard until, with a growl, Nikola threw himself backwards and away from both the creature and John. Electricity still seemed to crackle in the air, finer than the fat drops of rain that had soaked them both.

The lightening was long gone and John, it seemed was fine, lying on his back and panting heavily not three foot from Nikola but he knew that they were not...  _safe_. With a grunt, he reached for John, pulling the other man to his feet before turning them back towards the house. He could just make out three figures silhouetted against the house and he gave no thought to John and the speed with which he would have been capable to move at, instead dragging the other man with every bit of strength he possessed back to the warmth of the house.

It was a short trip, really, but for Nikola it seemed to take an eternity, weighed down by John as he was. The other man muttered in an accent that didn't belong to the cultured, soon-to-be lawyer the entire way back to the house, not ceasing until Nigel and James came running to their aid, reliving Nikola of John's weight and allowing him to walk at a far more reasonable pace. He beat them both back to the house, allowing Helen to ignore him as she too ran into the rain to help their other friend.

Nikola merely strode into the sitting room, coming to a sharp stop before the roaring fireplace. He was almost vibrating with energy he could not explain and, even as the others entered, bringing with them a series of worried murmurings, Nikola could not bring himself to focus on them. He had to... He needed to... There was something...

"Nikola," Helen said softly from where she knelt beside John's limp form along one of the sofas.

Nikola did not reply, merely glancing over his shoulder.

"Niko, are you all right?" she asked, making no move to go to his side. A sudden prickle of animosity rushed up Nikola's spine and he turned away from the others. He could hear John's incoherent mumblings and James' orders to Nigel for medications but his ears were trained to the rustle of skirts as Helen eased herself up.

He waited for her to reach his side before he turned to her, regarding her with a far less sentimental eye than he ever had before. Something about Nikola felt... different. He could see all the beauty of Helen, all the allure that had pulled at his heart and he could even summon up those feelings of absolute devotion she had always inspired in him, but suddenly he could see so much more. He could step back.

His breathing was still laboured though somehow, not from the exercise.

Helen's eyes were wide as she looked him over and she raised a hand to his cup his face gently. She opened her mouth but, before she could speak, a fearsome growl echoed through the room and they both turned just in time to see John launching himself from the couch and in their direction.

Nikola did not think, he had no need to. Instead he turned to Helen and shoved her away with all his strength. She screamed in fear but Nikola managed somehow to tune it out, instead focusing on the huge man moving towards him, rage in his eyes.

"She's mine, Boss!" John screamed, his voice distorted with that same accent Nikola had noted before. His hand wrapped around Nikola's throat but Nikola slashed out at him, his nails somehow tearing through the sodden cloth of John's shirt and raising angry red welts across his skin. John roared, his grip faltering as he stumbled back and Nikola moved to run to Helen's assistance, his heart skipping a beat as he took in her crumpled frame lying at the foot of a large bookshelf.

He knew it was a mistake the moment he stepped towards her and the way her eyes widened as a shadow loomed behind him told him that his instincts had faltered. He took another step, stumbling to his knees, meaning that the fire poker that John had aimed at the base of his spine, instead pierced his upper back.

Nikola looked to Helen, his lips falling open in a silent cry of pain as he reached for her. He heard her scream and the sounds of a struggle as Nigel and James pounced on John but nothing registered for Nikola as the poker re-emerged from his chest.

Right where his heart ought to have been.

He glanced down at the bloodied metal that stuck out from his chest, watching as small rivulets of blood trickled down the front of his white shirt, mixing with the rain water that was still dripping from his body. He did not even attempt to take a last breath, instead looking up to Helen once more, letting her beautiful blue eyes be the very last thing he saw before the velvety darkness swallowed him whole.


	29. Changes IV: The poison in my veins

Nikola awoke with a gasp, a cough, and then a very undignified splutter.

Helen viewed his awakening with little more than a bloodcurdling shriek.

James and Nigel were a little late to the party, being more than two floors above them however, once they arrived, they viewed the newly-awoken Nikola with a fear rather reminiscent of Helen's.

John was blissfully unaware though Nikola supposed the other man would have been most displeased if he had known.

The first thing he noticed was the cold. His person was not cold, per se, but it was cold. The distinction, while most peculiar was clear in his mind. The next thing he noticed, was discomfort. He was lying on... something. It was hard. Hard and cold. Stone, he realised as his fingertips brushed against it. And there was something covering his face. Thin, white. He blinked twice. A sheet.

With a start, he sat up and she sheet fell away, his eyes taking in the room with a sharp focus that had his head spinning. Had the tapestry in the hall always been so vibrant? It made his stomach turn.

That was when he noticed Helen and her screaming. The sound was deafening, enough to make his teeth vibrate with the intensity of it.

* * *

John shivered violently into consciousness, the blood in his veins boiling in protest. He jerked against the metal shackles that held him to the wall and they cut into his wrists. The smell of blood stung his nostrils as he continued to fight his restraints.

He roared at the ceiling, straining his neck and baring his teeth as if he could scare the roof from its beams and thus grant him freedom. Beads of sweat rolled down his cheeks, matting the length of his dark hair wherever the two met. The fine cloth of his shirt clung as his body tensed against the rolling waves of fury that slid through his body.

He could feel nothing but a white hot anger at all around him. There was little but his anger, images of the deceptions performed against burning his eyes until sweat was mixed with tears, a salty combination of betrayal that had only ever lingered on the fringes of his imagination until this moment.

* * *

Helen was fairly certain that the noise that escaped from her throat was one she had never before been capable of producing. However, given the circumstances, she suspected it was entirely warranted.

After all, seeing ones best friend die not an hour before he promptly awoke with pitch black eyes and startling talons was not an everyday occurrence. In fact, even with all of the perfectly odd things she had experienced in her life, Helen could quite comfortably say that this was an entirely unique happening.

And she had precisely no idea of what she was to do next.

And so she fainted.

* * *

Nigel's language, while always colourful, reached a new level of descriptive vulgarity. The words were just spewing forth, slipping from his lips and burning his ears as he stared at the closest thing he'd had to a best friend since he was a boy.

They were mates. Chums. Almost family. The outsiders. Nigel always found that there was something about Nikola, as abrasive as he was, that spoke of loyalty. It wasn't particularly pronounced or logical, but Nigel felt far closer to Nikola than he ever had James or John.

But now...

Those dark eyes were not Nikola's. His mouthful of overly sharp, jagged teeth had been thrust upon him transforming man into monster. It reminded him of the way the world changed at night, the way darkness erupted from nowhere to claim what the day saw as benign.

He was not Nikola. Not any more.

* * *

James seemed to hear it before the rest of them. Of course, Helen's shriek of surprise still had his ears ringing, but still, no one else noticed the guttural cries coming from above their heads. Or perhaps they did, yet couldn't truly take it in.

One glance at the faces of his friend and the crumpled body of the other told him that they were too invested in the situation at hand to understand that something more was occurring.

Instead of bothering them, James swallowed, took a last look at what their experiment had done to Nikola Tesla and turned on his heel.

John was calling.

* * *

Nikola wasn't sure what to do first. Nigel was still staring at him as if he'd grown a pair of horns while Helen's unconscious form tugged at his heart in a not entirely unfamiliar way. James, it seemed, was so terrified of Nikola that he'd disappeared and there was a dull roar coming from somewhere above that had him frowning.

Instead, he settled for looking down at himself.

Only to realise his chest was bare.

At that, his frown deepened. Last he knew, he wasn't one to walk about barely clothed.

"And this isn't my room," he muttered.

Nigel swore again, capturing his attention.

Their eyes met and the other man flinched.

"Griffin?" Nikola asked, all at once startled by the timbre of his own voice. He'd dropped three octaves and, apparently torn a vocal cord or two. In a flash, Nikola bought his hand up to check that no defect was hindering his throat only to flinch himself as long talons brushed against his skin.

Nigel swore again.

He jerked his hand away, staring without comprehension at the dark material protruding from his chest.

Protruding.

Protruding.

Like a poker.

From his chest.

Nikola met Nigel's terrified gaze with his own wide eyes and swore.

* * *

A rippling pain flashed through his body and had John retching, falling forward on his-

His hands were free? Breath laboured, he studied his hands, trembling fingers tracing over deep red marks traversing each wrist. Restraints.

But he couldn't think on it any longer, the pain pulling through his body, dredging the very depths of his soul to find yet another way to cripple him until he was gasping, flat on his back.

He roared his pain at the ceiling, fists thumping down upon the hardwood flooring.

There was something... something he needed. It would calm the storm threatening to tear him apart as red and purple sparks flitted across his vision. He could smell his own flesh burning as beads of sweat sizzled across his body.

There was a fire growing in his body, raging heat he was sure he could not contain. Eyes drifting shut, a prayer slipped from his lips, a plea that his family would be safe, that his soul would be safer.

The fire bubbled up beneath his skin, breaking in stinging flames across his body until, all of a sudden, he was cold. The ground beneath him was wet and cold and, had he the strength, he would have pulled away. As it was, he merely moaned, the biting cold burning in counterpoint to the ripples of fire that seemed to dance across his chest.

The fire grew stronger again, scorching his chest from the inside out and then the floor was warm again. With all his strength, John heaved an arm up, letting it fall across his face, the cool water dripping from his sleeve mingling with salty tears that tracked down his cheeks.

It was poison.

* * *

The breath in her chest seemed to all rush in at once, making her cough hastily though her corset barely allowed it. She was still half asleep, pushing up from the floor with a light moan as she bought a hand to her temple while blonde ringlets clouded her vision.

Helen could not be certain as to why she was currently on the floor of what she considered her father's procedure room, not even as she heard two soft voices from very far away. Her lips were dry and eyes gritty but she fought the sensation as she struggled to sit.

Only to be greeted with some strange manifestation of Nikola, a bloodied sheet pooled around his slender hips. His apparent nudity was, however, difficult to focus on when their gaze met.

His eyes were black. Darker than black, almost bottomless. They swirled with deep tones of emotion she couldn't read but sent deep thrills of fear through her body until her fingers tingled cold. Beyond him, her peripheral vision could make out Nigel's astounded vision yet Helen could not take her eyes from Nikola.

There was something about the harsh planes of his cheeks that fascinated her, the way his thin skin stretched over distended bones, casting abnormal shadows across his face as he drew in heavy breaths through mismatched teeth.

Her heart caught in her throat at the sight, her eyes filling with tears as she realised the way in which she'd destroyed her very best friend. It was her fault, her belligerent attitude that had nearly killed him.

In fact, she was fairly sure she had killed him. She could remember the moment the light in his eyes had disappeared, the way the fire of life in his body had fizzled leaving her with a young man covered in blood and now way to reconcile what she had done with the scientific principles she had used as a crutch for too long.

Yet he was not dead.

He was alive, He was breathing. He had been remade by the blood they'd pushed through their veins but he was alive which was more than she'd had reason to hope for.

"Niko," she breathed. He cocked his head, eyes still swirling with the same unfathomable combination of emotions she could not distinguish.

Scrambling to her feet, Helen lunged towards where Nikola sat, still staring dumbly at her, her hands seeking his warm, living flesh as if to prove that he was still there, rather than the alternative she had been certain was reality.

His skin was chilled to touch as he flinched from her grasp and they both drew in a sharp breath. Helen bit her lip as her body froze up, the room snapping into focus as a bolt of fear threaded through her veins.

With more care, she reached for him again, ignoring the way his limbs twitched as if to avoid her touch until she could graze her fingertips against his forearm. He was so cold she automatically began to worry on frostbite and pneumonia but, as she looked up to his red-rimmed eyes swirling with unfathomable darkness, she realised he held no such fear for his health. He was cold yet did not feel it.

Grasping his arm more firmly, she stepped closer to the hospital bed he sat upon, her grip tightening as she took in all that she could of his visage. It was astounding. He was Nikola yet he was not. His face was broken, torn, stretched against its natural confines to cast deathly shadows across the marble-white expanse of skin. Small blue veins ran across his temples that twitched while he breathed, each sharp snap of breath broadening his chest and flaring his nostrils.

She wanted to touch him all over, to explore his changes and similarities, aware that she could spend hours doing just such.

* * *

The fascination on her face was, well, fascinating. Nikola found it slightly disconcerting, however, that he was the subject of such fascination. Her eyes were almost devouring his form and he felt more naked than his unclothed body could ever illicit. He wanted so badly to recoil yet his muscles would not let him. In fact, he wanted to move forwards, into Helen's body heat.

His head would fit so well against the curve of her neck, his lips pressed to the creamy smooth column. It was almost as though they were designed to fit like that, his body created to sit against hers so perfectly. And she would be so warm. So deliciously hot against his chilled cheek. Perhaps she would even grant him leave to taste, to let his lips devour her throat in the way her eyes were devouring his form.

He didn't even realise he was leaning in until she jerked back a fraction. But it was too late. He had to touch her, to feel her, to bask in her warmth. She said something, those soft pink lips parting as sweet breath touched his face. Nikola reached for her, his hand closing around the delicate structure of her wrist. She shifted in his grip but was unable to pull away.

The skin under his fingertips was so soft, it sent him halfway to madness yet it was not enough. He tugged her closer effortlessly, her body jerking into his grasp with a sweet little yelp of surprise. With her warmth that much closer, Nikola let his eyes drift close, soaking her in with all his other senses.

Her warmth made his mouth water, something curling deep inside him that demanded more. More of what, specifically, he was not sure, but he knew beyond a doubt that Helen was at the centre of it all. Everything swirled around Helen.

He wondered perhaps, if it always had, and he'd only been too foolish to notice until now.

* * *

The poison was growing, spreading, heating his being until he thought he might combust. He could taste blood in his mouth, hot and heavy and filling up the bare room around him. The water on his skin sizzled away, lungs fighting the taste of blood for just a whiff of fresh air yet it was a futile attempt.

He needed something, it was more vital than air, than freedom, than anything. There was a part of him that was missing, a space to be filled.

The heavy, metal taste on his tongue should have been his first clue, but as the storm raged on above his head, all he could focus on was the need.

Blood.

 _Her_  blood.

And with that, everything inside him went deadly still.

Jack ran his tongue across his teeth, blowing out a deep breath that centered the raging storm within him.

 _Her_  blood.

 _Her_  blood.

He snarled, desperate for the blood he needed more than air.

It was the work of barely a thought to be standing before her, taking only a sharp rip within himself to bring him to what he craved.

"Whore!" The word exploded from his lips before he could stop himself, mouth curling into a sneer.

She was bent over that cur, his face against her neck. The cur's eyes flew open at the word, tugging his harlot closer as if sensing the threat. It made Jack smile. Terror ran thick through the room, doubling as the slut turned, eyes wide as she gasped in shock. He watched her pretty pink lips move, perhaps even calling his name. But though she attempted to say more, her filthy lover shoved her aside.

She fell in a heap beside the cold metal table the cur rested on. Jack hissed at the sight that awaited him, at the barely clothed man sprawled across the table. His stomach heaved: she was truly disgusting.

He went to move towards her, ready to spill her blood but her lover was smarter than he gave him credit for being. Snarling, snapping and full of an interesting vitality, the naked man thrust himself before Jack, his body blocking him from where the whore still lay on the ground, watching them with her terrified gaze.

A hand curled around his throat, bringing a twisted grin to his face.

It would be more fun to kill them both if they fought.

He bought a hand up to counter the move punching the other man in the stomach with a closed fist. He heard the crack of bones at the impact yet the cur did not seem to flinch.

His grimace faded somewhat at that.

"What are you?" he hissed, taking in the darkened eyes of the cur.

"You are a monster," the cur spat in reply, tightening his hand. "You will not hurt her."

"I will spill her blood. You cannot stop me."

The cur's eyes flicked for a moment, shifting just to the side for a fraction of a moment but before he could question it, something sharp pierced the column of his neck, ice rushing through his veins.

The cur dropped his grip, stepping back as his eyes widened, slowly turning back to their normal colour. He was breathing heavily as John dropped to his knees, clutching at his neck.

And, as the world started to grow fuzzy, John began to wonder how the fire inside him had moved him so very far from that tiny, god-forsaken room.

* * *

As Nigel knelt beside John's unconscious form, Nikola stepped away from them both, the adrenaline that had forced his action draining away to leave him unsteady on his feet.

He turned instead to Helen, not sure of what to do or say. They both stared at one another for what seemed like an eternity until, out of nowhere, her cheeks flamed crimson and she ducked her head.

"Nikola," she muttered, eyes flitting up to his body for a moment before darting away again. "Nikola, you are... naked."

"говно."

His curse, however, seemed to bring a smile to her face, a sight he could never regret the occurrence of.

And yet, the next day, when John awoke and began asking for Helen in that broken way he had, her smile as she rushed to his side made his stomach sink.

It wasn't until two weeks later that Nikola knew, finally, that his affliction, as Helen had taken to calling it, most certainly came with a rather nasty side effect. One that would not endear her to lavish attention on him, rather than John.


	30. Changes V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably should have posted a disclaimer somewhere yesterday when I pulled this across - everything up to this point is what was already on the FF site. But THIS bit is new!
> 
> Also a little warning because things get pretty violent between Helen and John in this chapter.

“Helen, your moustache is crooked,” James muttered out of the corner of his mouth, keeping his eyes studiously trained on the gravel path.

Cheeks flushed, Helen raised a hand, doing her best to adjust the furry monstrosity Nigel had produced for her without drawing attention to herself. As always, she never quite seemed to be able to blend into the background. And judging by the way John was smirking at her, she being particularly terrible at it in that moment.

The one thing going in her favour was that all the men were required to wear their academic robes for today’s special event. The flowing black fabric hid her curves nicely and allowed her to become one of the crowd. Or it would have, if she could get her moustache to sit straight. At least the pants she had borrowed from Nikola seemed to fit. In fact, they were deliciously uncomfortable to the point where she was beginning to wonder if she should not steal them away.

After all, everyone deserved a guilty pleasure, did they not?

“Are you sure about this?” John muttered, looking at James as he spoke.

James smirked, eyes darting towards Helen before picking up his pace and shaking his head.

“I will not miss this,” Helen hissed, her agitation growing alongside her nerves. “I do not care what the professors said, I must be there.”

John, wisely, said nothing. Instead he picked up the pace, walking just slightly ahead of Helen. It was all part of the plan, yet she felt oddly exposed without the two men flanking her, however vital it may have been.

Steeling herself, Helen bowed her head and allowed her pace to slow. She had to give the others time to get in and distract the professors she just knew would be keeping a keen eye out for her. She had begged, almost to the point of tears, to be allowed to attend this lecture. It was the first of its kind in Oxford and perhaps the third or fourth ever performed outside of London or Edinburgh.

To see a body, a human body in its most true form... It made Helen giddy with excitement. She had been party to autopsies on Abnormals but to see a human, to see her own body more or less, in detail they had only experienced in pieces was an opportunity that nothing would keep her from.

Not even the indignant and outraged cries of the entire classroom that had followed her public request had been enough to sway her desires.

It had been such an odd three weeks that a scientific diversion was rather welcomed. Not that the last three weeks hadn’t required Helen to call on the entirety of her scientific know-how. In fact, it felt as if her body had been sucked of all scientific prowess. She had been the centre of a flurry of activity, surrounded by every study she could get her hands on yet nothing had seemed to help.

Her study of her friends, and herself, while fascinating, had opened up ideas that no previous study seemed to have made concessions for. It was like breaking new ground, over and over and over again.

She had taken a special interest in John’s case, volunteering to take the place of his doctor, arguing that no commercial doctor could understand the complexities of what had taken place. And, thankfully, under her care, he had suffered only three further attacks, as they had taken to calling them. It was not over and Helen knew there was far more to do to bring him back to the man he was, yet she could not help but feel proud of all that had transpired.

Only to herself could she admit that her devotion to his case was the result of guilt. John’s transformation had been the most violent, the most devastating and heart-wrenching to watch. Nikola’s ability to heal, while fascinating, had yet to appear again, nor had the ghostly visage his face had become for those few, fleeting moments. Nigel, though continuing to flicker in and out of sight, suffered little pain and was seeming to enjoy the freedom such abilities allowed. He was somewhat reluctant to let Helen study him though, complaining every time she came near him with a needle. And considering James’s utter lack of enhanced anything, Helen was stuck working with the only member of their little group desperate enough for her help.

Not that she could ever complain. Working with John was hard but exceptionally rewarding. Watching him fight off a fit of madness, learning to control the fire in his veins that allowed him near instantaneous travel... It made her feel as if she were a part of the medical community she had so long fought to gain entry to. It was proof, even if only to herself, that her skills were as adequate as any other doctors. She was treating John with everything she had, employing what little research she could find with her own innovations that led to medications that actually worked.

It was more than enough to make her feel as if she had made up for the pain her experiment had inflicted.

Looking up, Helen made sure to keep her face perfectly neutral, assessing just how far she had allowed John and James to wander ahead. Nikola was supposedly already inside, distracting the professor with inane chit-chat about his latest failed exam. Their absence from class in the last few weeks had not gone unnoticed but for Nikola, who detested the biological sciences wholeheartedly, his lessened attendance had resulted in a much less stellar result than he was used to achieving. Given his scholarship, it was vital that he maintain the appearance of halfway decent grades.

Helen had suggested more than once that perhaps falling asleep in the exam had something to do with the end result but he had dismissed it. She knew she was right though. He was sleeping far longer than usual, and far more often than usual. Helen had caught him dozing on multiple occasions and each time he seemed to be taking longer and longer to regain his faculties.

Not that he would let her examine him. He had grown even more reclusive since their experiment, keeping to himself and even going out of his way to avoid Helen’s company. Irritating as his behaviour was, Helen knew she was too busy to pander to whatever mood had taken his fancy. He would come around. He always did.

But, yes, he was mercifully talking to their professor, having manoeuvred the conversation so that the older man’s back was towards Helen.

She did her best to meet his eyes as she slipped past but he seemed somewhat oblivious to her presence, tired eyes focused entirely upon the professor. But Helen knew better than to push her luck. She made her way to a secluded platform, far from the prying eyes of her classmates. She was rather lucky in many respects; today the clean white tiles of the laboratory far below them held far more interest for the students than a strange pupil with crooked facial hair.

Helen wiled away the time by watching her fellow pupils, counting out the faces she knew as opposed to those who had been smuggled in by friends. There were students of every discipline present, and she watched as John strolled through the crowd greeting friends Helen had never before seen.

After what seemed an eternity, Helen heard the unmistakable sound of the heavy doors, signalling that the room was full. She watched as the professor walked to the centre of the room, commanding a silence that no lecture theatre had ever before seen.

“Ready?” a soft voice whispered into her ear, startling her. She turned to see John smiling down at her, looking all too pleased at having caught her off guard. Rolling her eyes, she slapped at his chest and turned back to where the professor was beginning to prepare himself.

“Where are the others?” she whispered back. She knew James would not be joining them, given how terrible her vantage point was yet Nigel and Nikola had both promised to join her in seclusion.

As if she had summoned them, Nikola appeared by her side, dragging a grumpy looking Nigel by the collar of his robes.

“Watch it!” Nigel hissed as Nikola deposited him beside Helen, as if delivering a particularly undesirable parcel.

“I have seen you chase after women with more speed than you seem to muster today,” Nikola snarled in reply, pulling out his handkerchief and wiping his hands before turning his nose up at the other man. “I am not your minder. You are _supposed_ to be a grown man.”

And with that, Nikola tossed his apparently soiled handkerchief at the other man.

Nigel’s cheeks rose in colour for a few startling seconds before he was nothing more than floating robes. Helen hastily pushed herself between the two men, shoving Nigel out of sight.

Grabbing Nikola’s arm, she pulled him as close as possible, ignoring the way he squirmed to break her hold. She heard John step behind her, grasping Nigel pressing him further from where prying eyes could realise his lack of... well, existence.

“You can be so incredibly juvenile,” she growled at him, tightening her grip on his arm. Nikola winced, giving her a pinched little look that would have been comical if she wasn’t terrified of their commotion blowing her cover.

“He started it,” Nikola whined. His free hand came up to cover hers where it was threatening to cut off circulation. “I’ll be good,” he tried.

She frowned up at him, just about ready to shove him away when she became aware of how cool his skin atop hers was. And just how firm his grip on her hand was. It seemed stronger than she had anticipated, and her frown deepened.

“Please?” Nikola whispered, his grip on her hand tightening before he pulled her hand off without Helen being able to do a thing about it. She frowned at him, cocking her head to question him but before she could speak, John’s hand upon her shoulder caught her attention.

“Berate them later,” he whispered, leaning in almost too close. She moved to question his suggestion but movement on the floor of the lecture hall caught her eye.

It was about to begin.

In an instant she dropped her grip on both men, leaning forward over the balustrade to get the best view possible. It was all much too far away, and while Helen longed to march down and seat herself in the very front row, she was not about to risk what little opportunity she had managed to take for herself for her pride. However much she wanted to.

The professor began speaking, garbling on about the glory of the moment, of how important it was for the future of science that such a practice was continued, regardless of what some members of parliament had argued. He finished up with a prayer, a thank you of sorts to the young man whose body would provide them all with such knowledge.

All of this passed with absolute silence from the audience. No one even seemed to be breathing. Well, except for Nikola, who was muttering complaints under his breath so that only Helen could hear. If she hadn’t been so enraptured by the metal table being wheeled out, she probably would have tugged on his ear until he fell silent.

Instead, she brushed off his childish antics.

Well, she tried.

Apparently Nikola, fed up with being ignored had decided to tug upon Helen’s robes to get her attention. She pushed his hand away firmly, eyes glued to the white sheet that had captured the interest of everyone in the room except the resident Serb.

It did nothing to deter him, however. His hand grasped her wrist a little too tightly, pulling her towards him even more insistently. Helen tried to fight him off but his grip was surprisingly firm.

“Nikola,” she hissed under her breath. “Nikola, get off. You are hurting me. I want to watch this. Leave if you’re going to behave like a child.”

“Helen,” he gasped out, voice hoarse. Whipping around to give him her best glare, Helen was startled at the pallor of his skin. In fact, she was quite certain he had the same bluish tinge as the corpse that had been exposed to the room of hungry eyes.

“Nikola,” she replied, forgetting to keep her voice down.

His eyes were wide and dark, mouth hanging open as his free hand grabbed at his throat with a grip that seemed too tight to be comfortable.

“I-“ he tried, the words getting caught in his throat. He looked to her pleadingly, mouthing a word she could not make out. All at once Nigel was pushing Helen away, stepping closer to Nikola with a flask in hand. She would have chastised the consumption of alcohol in such a space as a lecture hall if she hadn’t been so terrified of Nikola’s increasingly pained gasps for air.

With steady hands, Nigel unscrewed the flask, pressing the opening to Nikola’s lips. Nikola seemed to sense the help being offered and released his grip on Helen in favour of taking the flask from Nigel, tipping the contents down his throat. His hands shook so badly that amber drops were trailing down his chin, soaking the starched collar of his shirt.

When the last drop landed in his gaping mouth, Nikola tossed aside the flask, pushing Nigel away as he bent forwards to grasp the railing Helen had been leaning on moments before. He bowed his head, gasping out strange syllables before bowing his back and letting loose a strange, clicking noise. They seemed to erupt from deep within his chest as he threw his head back, mouth stretched wide.

“Nikola!” Helen cried, grasping his shoulder as she tried to pull him back. She wanted to curse, wanted to scream but before she could, Nigel was again shoving her away. With John’s help, they managed to wrestle Nikola’s shuddering body away from the balustrade, leaving Helen open-mouthed and flushed.

A hand clamped across her mouth and pulled her backwards with approximately the same speed that another set of arms was pulling Nikola away.

“Hush,” James hissed against the shell of her ear as he continued to drag her further into the shadows. “You will make a scene.”

Her instinct to throw him off was strong, but her fear somehow stronger. She fell back against James’ chest with a muffled sob, tears forming in the corner of her eye. Blinking them away, she let herself be held by James’ strong arms for a moment, pretending that such a thing could grant her composure once more.

Laying a hand over his, she freed herself before turning to him. The lecturer was droning on in the background, every other face in the room rapt with attention but Helen had no stomach for dissections today.

In their dark little corner, she could only just make out James’ expression, his eyes glowing in the dim light.

“I have to go to him,” she whispered, not trusting herself to speak any louder. Her entire body was trembling, mind racing as she tried to piece together some sort of understanding of what was going on.

James’ merely shook his head, a thousand warnings passing between them without a word more being said. But still Helen attempted to pull away, fighting his grip until another set of hands reinforced the restraint. She twisted against them, looking up to find John peering over her shoulder, his eyes glowering in the dark.

“He is fine,” John breathed, leaning in scandalously close. His lips grazed the lobe of her ear, fire sizzling across her nerves. “Remain still or you will be discovered.”

He pressed her against the wall, his frame pinning her with little effort as his hands took hold of her elbows. James managed to fade away and, while part of Helen hoped he had gone to look after Nikola (there was no one else she trusted more), the new thrill of fear that raced up her spine had her wishing he had not left her alone with John.

She loved John; she trusted John. He was one of her closest friends and she knew that he would always look out for her, but he was also a _man_. He was big and strong and masculine. His body dwarfed hers and, as he used his full weight to press her to the wall, Helen had never been more aware that John was male.

And it terrified her. For so long she had been trained to avoid situations like this, to avoid being cornered by masculine men with large hands who could impinge on her virtue. She was a proper lady and, as John pressed against her with the full length of his body, her cheeks started to colour.

“Can I let you go now?” John whispered, his mouth far too close to her cheek. The hands on her arms loosened ever so slightly. Helen nodded slowly and turned in his arms.

John was still standing too close, his body heat warming what little space there was between them. Helen felt herself swaying towards him, drawn in by the illicit nature of their embrace. She watched his lips for a long moment, mesmerised by the play of shadow across his face. It wasn’t something she’d ever paid attention to previously, in fact she hadn’t spent much time looking at men at all. They were... rather pretty, she supposed. Prettier than she had ever thought them to be.

Only when a dark chuckle drifted across the space did Helen realise just where she was.

“Pillow biter,” someone muttered to sniggering friends. John immediately stepped back, the cool air rushing up against Helen’s front.

“Come,” he growled, eyes suddenly dark and dangerous, sending a cold pang of terror up her spine. He gestured at Helen, his movement choppy and disjointed. It reminded her of his rage the night of their injections, the way every trace of sanity escaped his normally cool and collected gaze.

Ducking her head, Helen followed his request and scurried towards the door and down the stairs, pushing past curious figures until her hand closed around the cold metal of the door latch. She pushed with all her weight, stumbling as it gave way and the sunshine hit her face.

Gasping in a breath, she surged forwards, eyes searching the small, sunny courtyard for the friends she had temporarily forgotten. Her cheeks still felt flushed despite the cool breeze, humiliation she didn’t understand burning through her. She could sense John behind her, his presence looming above her like a dark, hypnotic cloud that threatened to drag her back into his orbit.

A hand closed around her wrist out of nowhere, startling her.

“Helen,” James growled, his hand tightening on her wrist. “What took you so long?”

Helen didn’t get the chance to even think of a response before he was dragging her off.

“He’s... He was asking for you.” James glanced at her out the corner of his eye and Helen was startled by the fury she saw on his face. He was leading her around the building they’d just escaped from and, before she could free herself from his grip, he was leading her down into a cellar.

The rough wooden door squeaked as he shoved it aside, hauling Helen down through a dark, twisting corridor that opened into a room just as dark and dank as the hallway.

“The basement?”

“He was making a scene,” was James’ only response.

Helen went to retort his logic, only to be cut off by Nigel’s grumpy whispering.

“Took you bloody long enough. Where’d she disappear to?”

“Where is he?” Helen hissed, brushing past her friends. With trembling hands she tore the fake moustache from her upper lip, discarding it as her eyes combed through the darkness.

She could hear the lecture they had abandoned above their heads, the floorboards creaking rather ominously with the weight of too many students peering at the spectacle put on for them.

“ ‘Round here,” Nigel allowed, opening a side door Helen hadn’t previously noticed. He ushered her through the door and into a round, stone room. The temperature was noticeably cooler down here, raising bumps along her arms. The noise of the professor was louder here and, looking up, Helen was able to watch the play of shadows through the cracks in the floor. They were standing directly below the stage.

“Helen,” a voice called softly, dragging her attention away from how close they were to trouble. She whipped around, her heart stuttering as she took in Nikola, sitting on the floor looking far less presentable than he had before. His shirt was stained with whiskey and the muck from the floor, his cheeks streaked with dirt and what she suspected to be tear tracks. And even more telling, his usually impeccable hair stood up in strange spikes across the top of his head.

“Nikola,” she breathed out, the word rushing from her lips as she fell across the room to embrace him. He seemed startled by her actions but allowed her searching fingertips to roam across his body, searching for imperfections or clues.

“He was carrying on like a pork chop,” Nigel said quietly. “Like he couldn’t breathe or nothin’. Then he just sorta collapsed on us.”

“I collapsed?” Nikola asked, a touch too loudly. Clamping a hand over his mouth, Helen gave him a warning look as she turned back to the others.

“And his... his face. Was it...”

“Worse,” Nigel allowed, eyeing them both with trepidation. “Could have just been the light down here, but it was... worse.”

Turning back to her patient, she narrowed her eyes and cocked her head. Other than his obvious dishevelment, Nikola looked perfectly normal, if not a little tired.

“Have you been sleeping well, Nikola? And eating?”

He frowned, as if puzzled by the question.

Carefully, she peeled her hand from his mouth, bringing her fingers to her own lips to shush him.

“What happened to me face?” he asked, his voice no louder than a whisper.

“You don’t remember what happened upstairs?”

“Upstairs?”

“During the lecture,” James put in, breaking from his stoic position against the wall. “You changed, Tesla.”

“He didn’t change,” Helen began in protest but James merely lifted an eyebrow.

“You appeared parched,” James continued. “Like you needed a drink. And your eyes grew... bloodshot. When we dragged you outside you fought us with more strength than you possess.”

Nikola’s eyes opened wide, his mouth slack as he heard the recount of his supposed behaviour.

“Where are we?” he asked, his voice strained.

“Under the lecture theatre,” Helen replied. “Do you not remember what happened?”

“We... we met in the courtyard of my residence,” he said softly, brow furrowing. “But you are wearing men’s clothing Helen? I don’t understand...”

“He remembers nothing,” James said softly. “It is as if his brain chemistry was switched.”

“Nikola, that was yesterday,” Helen said, ignoring James as she tried to keep her voice steady. “I came to visit you yesterday, I asked for you help.”

“For John,” he finished, frowning again. “I remember. You wanted to know what I remembered of what happened. When he tried to kill me.”

“When he did kill you,” James corrected.

“Nikola wasn’t dead,” Helen retorted, forgetting to keep her voice down. All three men froze and waited for the lecture to continue over head before they returned their gaze to Nikola.

“He wasn’t,” Helen said again, this time in a whisper.

“He was dead,” James replied. “For the better part of an hour.”

“But he is perfectly fine,” Helen hissed.

“He was dead. But then he wasn’t.” James finished his simple statement with a shrug of his shoulders, as if it was all perfectly clear.

“That doesn’t matter now,” Nigel cut in. “We gotta get out of here. Now. Before someone comes down here. There’s all kinds of storage up the other end of this corridor.”

“And I feel fine,” Nikola offered. “I think I may have just over exerted myself. It has been a few too many days since I’ve slept.”

“That doesn’t explain what happened upstairs,” Helen said, unwilling to give up the fight.

“Later,” Nigel urged. “We’ll go back to the classroom. We can talk properly there.”

Despite her desire to push the point, Helen forced herself to stand, turning towards the door when something cool and slick fell on her cheek. She looked up just in time to watch another heavy drop fall from the ceiling and land on her top, right on the curve of her breast.

“Helen?” Nigel asked as she paused.

“Water,” she whispered in reply, frowning as she wiped it from her face.

“No,” a suddenly hoarse voice whispered from behind her.

“Blood,” James finished, sudden understanding clouding his tone. Surging forwards, he grabbed Helen by the waist and hauled her towards the door, leaving Nigel to scramble back with his eyes fixed on Nikola. Nikola, who was in turn staring at Helen’s chest. At the dark, thick fluid that had stained the breast of her shirt.

“Run,” James hissed in her ear, shoving her toward the open door with little finesse, pushing at her desperately. “You must run, Helen. Run _now._ ”

His fear was contagious, rushing through her as she forced her body to comply and she ran as fast as she could through the dank corridors. At the first sight of light, she pushed herself further, throwing her body against the door and stumbling back into the daylight waiting for her. John was standing guard and caught her easily but, with her head still firmly stuck on ‘run’, she fought his grip with all her might.

His arms tightened around her waist, picking her up without pause and tossing her towards a shadowed corner. He crowded her in, forcing her back until she had no where to run. His hand closed around her throat, not quite cutting off her air supply but making each breath painful and ragged. Fear still clawing at her gut, Helen lashed out, drawing her nails down his face and drawing blood.

But John didn’t even flinch. His eyes had lost their sanity, his body perfectly still and controlled as he watched her struggle and squirm. Helen could feel his hand tightening around her throat, slowly clamping down as her vision began to swim and tears streamed down her face.

“J-joh-“ she tried, desperate to get his attention. Something told her that it would be enough, that if he could see _her_ again, he would be forced to let go.

“John” she choked out, the last of the air rushing from her lungs as her body grew hot from lack of air. Closing her eyes, she found herself praying that it would be enough, that he would just stop. She knew that there was no way they would be found, no one would come looking or even think to check for her. It was John. He was her friend. He was safe.

And then Helen was coughing, the air rushing back into her body as she fell to the ground, crumpled and debauched and eyes stinging once more with humiliation. She didn’t even realise that John was still standing over her, watching her with abject fascination. She thought she was safe, that she was free, that John’s rage had passed.

But she was wrong.

When Helen looked up to him, ready to ease his guilt and apologise for the damage she had done to his cheek, she had not expected to see his clenched fist. Moving towards her.

Making vicious, brutal, blinding contact with her cheek.

The pain was incredible, ricocheting around her body before centring back in on the point of impact.

The pain blossomed before Helen could comprehend what was happening. Something warm erupted from the point of impact, cool and hot against her cheek all at once and a stark contrast to the growing throb of her cheek bone. The throb radiated across her face, make her whole body tingle and shake. It hurt to the pit of her stomach and, for the first time that day, the tears the pricked her eyes had very little to do with humiliation.

By the time she had raised a hand to her cheek, John had raised his fist again and she met her eyes, a strange sort of defiance settling in her bones. She met his gaze as he swung at her again, crying out only as he came into contact with the same point on the crest of her cheek bone. Though she was more prepared for the blow this time, the pain was indescribably more intense. Blood filled her mouth, escaping the corner of her lips as the impact threw her backwards.

"John," she croaked, skidding backwards as if she could escape the reach of his fists. His breathing was laboured, his eyes glued to where the blood trickled from her mouth. His fists were still clenched but, as he watched her struggle to remain silent against the pain, his expression changed.

Slowly, though still fast enough to startle Helen, he knelt down before her. His hands, bloodied but strangely steady reached for her, sending Helen lurching backwards until she hit her head on the cold stone wall. With her trapped, his hands continued towards her, one settling on her chin to tilt it forward while the other moved for the curve of her unbound waist.

"John," she whispered again, not quite sure what she was pleading for. Mercy, perhaps.

He didn't respond, instead leaning in swiftly to capture her lips in a kiss that made Helen's skin crawl. She tried to pull free of his grip, whimpering against his mouth as he forced her lips to part, his grip on her jaw painfully tight. The way he held her made her cheek ache and, as she began to sob helplessly against the kiss, she brought her hands up to push at his chest.

It was no use though. He was too strong, his mouth too determined and as his tongue filled her mouth, Helen realises exactly what he was searching out. Blood. The taste was thick in her mouth, salty and sharp and tinged with a metallic edge and now it was in his mouth too.

Not him, a voice in Helen's mind supplied. He is not John. This is not John. With a renewed sense of strength, Helen pushed at him but this time she made sure that it seemed loving. Despite the bile rising in her throat, she petted his chest, caressing up his neck until his mouth softened on hers and she was able to pull free of his grip. He was still too close for Helen to make out any clarity in his gaze but she managed a pained smile in his direction, hoping it was the right action to take.

And then he collapsed on her.

His weight was almost too much to bear, crushing her but it was nothing compared to the relief that flooded her entire body. Her vision swam as she breathed in deeply, tears leaking down her cheeks. She could have collapsed too, but she fought the desire and instead focused on John.

A strange numbness overtook Helen, leaving her limbs free of pain and, with her renewed strength, she pressed on John’s shoulders. It took a few moments but eventually she was able to turn him onto his back. Cradling her shoulders, she leant down and pressed her cheek to his temple.

“John,” she whispered, her voice strained and broken. “John, it is all right. Wake up. Please, wake up.”

Petting his cheeks, she closed her eyes and willed herself to take deep, steady breaths. The rhythm of it soothed her somewhat, allowed her to take in John’s injuries. The marks her fingernails had made had stopped bleeding, leaving small trails of red smeared across his cheeks. She traced over the lines with gentle fingers, her guilt at marking him fading as she realised that they were not nearly as deep as she had initially thought. In fact, with a little antiseptic to clean the wound, she was confident that he would not even bear the scars of their encounter.

She was not so confident when it came to her own injuries, however. But she couldn’t dwell on that now. If she did, Helen was certain she’d begin crying. Which was utterly unacceptable. She needed to move, to move him, to get somewhere quiet and private so that they might attend his injuries.

Helen could feel her strength dwindling, fading through inaction and, as she began to push at his broad shoulders once more, nausea settled in her gut. She pushed and pushed at him, growing more frantic as the bile began to creep up her. The tears began to fall just as she turned her head, what was left of her breakfast making a pained reappearance. Each retch burnt her throat, pushed from her body with fiery surges of guilt and shame. Her body shuddered with each movement, the vile stench reaching her nose and stinging her eyes.

Her stomach continued cramping even after the last of the acidic mess had escaped her lips, leaving each retch and gag to shoot sharp spikes of pain across her entire body. One of her hands came to land on John’s shoulder, squeezing too tightly as her body worked to expel every last ounce of fight from her.

Her vision swam and, in the bright light of the day, the watery shadows that approached her seemed even less substantial than they ought to have been. They were mirages, surely. As were the familiar cries of alarm that grew louder as the shadows grew taller.

She was just about ready to surrender to the shadows when it became clear that the shadows were wearing black cloaks that rippled in the breeze. Black cloaks like her own.

School robes, a small voice in her head supplied.

And these shadows had facial hair.

“Helen,” one shadow breathed as it crouched beside her, uncaring of the puddle of bile the seeped between the paving stones. The shadows breath fanned across her face, spicy and as familiar as the hands that cupped her cheeks.

“Hush,” the shadow whispered. “Don’t cry, Helen. It is OK. You’re safe. I promise.”

His thumbs brushed against her cheeks, smearing something cool and wet against her skin while the other shadow tugged at the weight pinning her legs. She turned just in time to see John’s lifeless body tossed aside as if his lanky frame weighed no more than a feather pillow. His face was deathly pale and streaked with crimson, a small track of blood dripping from his nose to mix with the ghastly cuts she had left.

“Get the carriage,” the second shadow commanded, his voice a low growl. “I’ll bring her around to the stables.”

“How, Nikola?” the shadow beside her urged. “She can barely walk.”

The second shadow grunted and swooped in, darkness clouding Helen’s vision as she felt her body being swept up and into the bright blue of the sky.

She thought perhaps she ought to protest and push at the solid warmth she found herself cradled to, but it was as if she had forgotten how to use her muscles. Instead she bowed her head, allowing her ear to press against the shadow’s chest to hear the steady rhythm of his heart.

The shadows were arguing, John’s name being bandied about before the shadow holding her turned sharply and carried Helen away with frightening speed. The shadow was whispering something above her, the words blurring between languages she did and did not understand. There was something about it all that felt wrong to Helen, as if it shouldn’t be happening like this but, in that moment, nothing seemed to matter as much as the fact that she was being taken _away_ from the danger. Whether or not she was going to more was irrelevant.

Things passed them by, light and dark shifting about so as to give her a pounding headache, the pain of which inspired her to regain control of her muscles and turn her head into the chest of her shadow. His only response was to tighten his arms around her while they kept moving through varying shades of sunlight until finally the temperature dropped and Helen uncurled in his arms.

Leaning back slightly, Helen blinked through the darkness until her eyes adjusted enough to give her shadow a blurry outline. His jaw seemed to tense but he did not look down to meet her gaze. Helen wanted to question him, to say _something_ but she was just so tired. She didn’t have the strength to fight the weight of her eyelids as they fluttered closed.

In fact, she was so tired that she barely stirred as Nikola placed her on a soft, cool bed. She moaned softly as he plucked the hat from her head and frowned as he peeled the moustache from her top lip. Her toes curled like a small child’s as he removed her shoes but she was helpful in her own sleepy way as he divested her of the school robes she had stolen from him two days previous. She didn’t however, let him removed her waist coat or unbutton more than three of the tiny white fastenings that ran down her shirt. Her sleepy hands instead moved to his waist as if to pull him down before falling back to the bed as he stroked her cheek.

And, as Nikola pulled away, she finally settled into a deep, dark, dreamless sleep.


End file.
